The Sword of Seijuro Hiko
by Justice Stryfe
Summary: Some people never catch a break - Seijuro Hiko XIII is one such person. Accidentally killed his master, wandered Japan aimlessly fighting, training an apprentice who runs off, then finding out he's got to kill him. Some people never catch a break.
1. 01 News to Me

: Disclaimer :

I only WISH I owned Rurouni Kenshin. If I did, none of you would read this, 

you'd be watching the Jinchuu Arc after I got it animated! ^_^

Needless to say, I don't own RK, so you're stuck with this. ^_^ Please enjoy though.

Author's Note - I have not seen the OAVs, I know extremely little of the Bakumatsu events around Kenshin,

so don't expect to see very much of Kenshin here. It's mainly going to star Hiko, that it is. o_O

It would all be over so quickly. It would be swift and utterly without hesitation.

His Quarry stood only meters from him, completely unaware of his presence. The Hunter's speed was unrivalled -

he could draw his sword and cut his prey in twain before anyone would even know he was there.

There would be no pain - he would ensure that - and all the pain and suffering brought on by this man

would end in an instant.

There was no reason not to kill him. He had slain hundreds, perhaps thousands of men in one short year,

and had caused such an imbalance between the warring forces in Japan that the side this man had chosen

was, without doubt, going to be victorious in it's efforts. And how could it not? His skills were legendary,

his speed beyond understanding the of normal men, perhaps beyond the understanding of those who considered 

themselves his peers, as well, and his appearance such that no one would ever think him capable of the things he was

capable of. He moved silently, swifter than the wind itself, undetected and untraceable, stalking his targets with such

single-minded precision and cold-blooded calculation that he seemed to be a demon rather than a man to his foes.

When drawn, his sword cut through men like a sharp knife through paper, and the skies seemed to rain blood upon the fields.

When sheathed, he was, if it was possible, even more deadly, drawing his sword with such speed and power that his 

opponents were rent asunder before they even knew what had occured, their fates sealed and their lives marked for a

premature end because, somewhere along the way, one Katsura Kogora had decided that they had to die for the future

of this war-torn country, under the guise of 'Heaven's Justice', and by this man's bloody blade.

The Hunter scowled at the notion of 'Heaven's Justice' being decided by a fool of a politician, but scowled even more

at the notion that the man before him actually went along with it. A fool and a murderer, nothing more, the Hunter decided,

and one who is soon to taste true justice, he finished, his eyes narrowing and his fingers tightening around his katana.

The Quarry stood alone in a field of bamboo trees, going through his training kata and preparing himself for a coming battle

that would decide the winner of this war. If this man were allowed to live, then hundreds more would die at his hands,

and the Hunter could not allow it to happen when it was within his power to stop it.

That though in mind, the thirteenth master of the Hiten Mitsurugi drew his sword and made ready for a murderous Kuzu Ryuu Sen,

and to take the life of his baka deshi, Kenshin Himura.

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...Do you like it? Please review and tell me what you think!

And if you do grace me with your words of either encouragement or criticism, know that I appreciate it greatly!

Also, please tell me any way you can think of to make the ending sentence stronger. Should I have excerpted the 'baka deshi'

and substituted something less familiar, more cold? I dunno... I thought it made it more angsty and sorta tragic, but I might be wrong... :P

Thanks for reading! ^_^


	2. 02 Of Decisions and Past Lives

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: Disclaimer :

Sessha does not own Rurouni Kenshin, that he does most certainly not. :)

Kenshin - @_@x That's sessha's catchphrase, that it is!

Justice - @_@ But sessha likes it too!

Kaoru - TWO rurounis...?! Is he a brother or yours or something, Kenshin?

Justice - Oro.

Kenshin - O_Ox

AUTHOR'S QUERY - @_@ Um, ff.net removed all the spaces between paragraphs in my fic. 

Anyone know a way to fix this...? o_o'

I'd be most appreciative if anyone has any suggestions...

Note - Thoughts are in italics, and quotations inidicate spoken words. indicates scene change. 

****

THIS indicates time-slowdown

stuff, so more happens in the moment than I actually have room for. ^^ Lame, I know.

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WOWIE-ZOWIE!!! My first review! ^___^ This makes me happier than you can possibly imagine.

I would like to thank **Shaolin and Amakakeru **(that's one name, people) for taking the time to read my 

scribblings, and even more for reviewing it! You're the best!!!

.

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The Sword of Seijuro Hiko

Chapter One - ...Of Decisions and Past Lives

----- ----- -----

ORO

----- ----- -----

...Some time ago...

The thirteenth master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, the most powerful sword style in Japan, no, the world,

sat on a log outside his quaint little cottage, and stewed in a way that only Seijuro Hiko could stew.

He had decided, wistfully, to go to the village at the base of the mountain, having run out of sake, 

which, in Hiko's book, was tantamount to death. Disgruntled at having to leave his residence for anything, 

he had nonetheless begun the fairly short trip to the shop, deciding to buy enough 

to last him at least a month. 

He therefore brought a cart.

(A/N - Can you imagine Seijuro Hiko dragging a cart behind him as he walks down the street?)

"Mister Seijuro! What can I do for you today?" called the portly owner of the sake shop.

"Sake, Tamataro. A month's worth." was the curt reply.

Tamataro grinned. Seijuro had been a regular customer of his for almost ten years now, coming in on a biweekly basis to resupply his stores of sake, which was about the only thing the reclusive man would come down off his mountain for. After a decade, though, he still knew mothing more than the name, love for sake, and that the man lived in the Kyoto mountains, and his paying customer seemed to prefer it that way, so Tamataro asked nothing.

"Yuki!" he called to his wife. "Send Shiro and Tsukasa for two dozen jugs!" Grinning, he turned back to chatwith his customer over a few small tidbits and get some answers over a small matter that had been bugging him.

"So, Seijuro, how's it goin' up there on that mountain of yours? And where's Kenshin? It's been months since that boy's been down this way." the owner queried.

Hiko was about to answer until he caught sight of the owner's youngest daughter behind the shoji. He suppressed a smirk as he thought how best to answer the question. Kenshin had made quite an impression on the women whenever he accompanied Hiko anywhere, which was not unusual; he was, after all, Hiko's student, and Hiko's natural charm and roguish good looks were bound to rub off on the kid to some degree or another. Further, the kid's hair, eyes, face,

and general build seemed simply to _draw_ women to him. Hiko had to supress another smirk, remembering a few of the confused and often intimidated kid's 

encounters with the opposite sex...

He drew himself out of his memories and came back to the question of how to answer the question. (A/N - o_O) The girl peeking out at him had recently turned sixteen, and was already turning out to be one of the most exotically beautiful women Hiko had ever seen, and that was saying something, he mused. Kenshin had been flabbergasted upon meeting

her about four years ago, and had given Hiko yet another excellent source of sadistic amusement. Upon each return trip, both Kenshin and the girl (Ayane was her name) grew more and more enamored with each other, to the point where

Hiko actually lingered in the town after his business was done, letting the kid have some time to talk to another kid. Again, snapping out of his reverie (he'd been doing this alot since his deshi had left), he returned to the question in front of him.

He really didn't want to let it be known that Kenshin had left for the war, but on the other hand...

"Kenshin has had many chores to do the past few months. 

He will not be down for some time," he lied.

Having noticed his daughter's presence as well, Tamataro grinned and replied, "Too bad, I have a feeling that a certain someone wishes he was around more, if you catch my drift," snickering.

Behind the door, Hiko felt the girl's ki jump and then flare with panic.

Supressing yet another smirk, (which he really wasn't used to doing) Hiko's reply was cool and level. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tamataro snickered again. "Of course, of course."

The boys brought the jugs of sake up, and Hiko loaded them into his cart, 

paid for the goods, and was on his way.

Walking down the road, Hiko looked up at the gray skies, and heaved a mental sigh.

__

Idiot apprentice...

The sheer idiocy of his only pupil was hard to grasp sometimes but then, Hiko remembered being almost the same at his age, idealistic and overconfident in his sword and his skills. His master had indicated his exasperation with Hiko many a time, drilling the Hiten priniciples into him daily, reinforcing those principles with stories that could make a hitokiri break down in tears. Hiko had done his best to do the same to his baka deshi, but had ultimately failed to change his mind. It wasn't really unexpected. It had taken nothing less than the teaching of the Hiten Mitsurugi succession technique to sober Hiko's idealist's mind.

He slowed his pace, and his expression softened for a moment.

__

Shishou...

Hiko hung his head glumly at the memory of his predecessor, of what it had taken to break Hiko of his nonsensical notions, and of what he had failed to do, in turn, for his own pupil.

__

Idiot apprentice... He thinks he can change the world, just because he's the second-greatest swordsman in Japan. He thinks he can just go out and kill the evil men, and save the people of this dying nation. My poor baka deshi...

He wasn't even fully trained, let alone fully grown. He was too young to face the horrors of the revolution, too young to see death on such a scale, of the sheer cruelty that humanity was capable of.

Hiko lifted his head to the heavens again, scowling.

__

What kind of supreme being would allow such barbarity?!

Focusing his eyes on the road, he noticed a familiar ki trailing behind him. Actually, it had been trailing him for some time now, but Hiko had been too preoccupied to take note of it. He scowled again. _I've got to stop these stupid little trips of introspection..._

Straightening, he called out, "It's unbecoming a lady to follow someone in the shadows, 

Ayane-dono."

Ayane started at Hiko-sama's awareness of her presence. She had been very careful to walk softly and curb her breathing- Kenshin had told her much about what went on back on that mountain he lived on, so she knew, unlike her father, that Seijuro Hiko was a great kenjutsu master; (actually, according to Kenshin, whom had shown her some of his own

amazing skill, Hiko was the _greatest_ swordsman in all of Japan).

"What's wrong? Nothing to say? Is it just some hobby of yours to follow people around town like a fox?" 

Ayane started again; Hiko-sama was pretty straightforward, she thought.

"Well, I..."

Some moments passed. Hiko grew annoyed at the lull.

"What?"

A bit taken back, Ayane managed to stutter, "I-I wanted to ask where K-K-Kenshin-chan was."

Hiko grinned at the honorific. That kid was some kind of ladykiller.

"I said earlier, he's doing chores at the mountain. Didn't you hear me behind that door?"  
Ayane should have been numb to Hiko-sama's awareness and sharp tongue by now, but she wasn't, so for a fourth time, she started, but then straightened up and squared her shoulders.

"You're lying."  
Hiko was silent for a moment, and Ayane trembled at her own forwardness. She knew Hiko-sama was strong and fast, and that he was a bit of an old bear, according to Kenshin-chan; truth be told, after hearing everything Kenshin-chan had said about Hiko-sama, she really wasn't sure why she was even here, let along telling him something like _that_.

The air was thick with tension, Hiko wondering what the heck was going on with this normally amiable kid, and the girl trembling terribly, wondering if he was going to be angry...

Speaking slowly, Hiko asked, "Why do you say that?"

Ayane was silent for a moment, and Hiko spoke again.

"It's not polite to accuse someone of lying and then say nothing when they inquire why, Ayane-chan," he said quietly, without turning around, his voice level, his words slow.

Ayane was trembling violently now, but somehow found her voice and her words.

"He went to Kyoto, didn't he, Hiko-sama?"

It was Hiko's turn to start, and his heart skipped a beat, before beginning to beat at about 150 % percent it's normal rate.

"Why would Kenshin go to Kyoto, Ayane-chan?" he inquired, not quite sure what to think.

"He went to fight in the war, Hiko-sama."

Hiko said nothing, but inwardly he was very much unsettled. Was this girl able to read him like so...? Impossible. He was a master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, the greatest sword style in the world; he could not be read by anyone, not even Kenshin, no, not even his own master could read him towards the end, surely this _child_...

"Kenshin-chan told me about the Hiten Mitsurugi, Hiko-sama," she said quietly.

...one worry aside, he wasn't getting soft. New worries appearing, the kid had talked.

__

Idiot apprentice.

"He said he was going to talk to you about going to Kyoto to fight the evil men there; he said he was going to save Japan. He really went, didn't he?" Ayane asked, pensive.

__

Surely it's someone else, she thought. _Surely Kenshin would never do those things..._

"...He went."

Ayane, her fear forgotten, now felt a fine, rich fury coming over her, and she strode towards Hiko,

walked in front of him, reached up, and slapped the tall swordsman across his right cheek.

Hiko was utterly shocked. She had struck him! This quiet, respectful girl, the apple of his deshi's eye, had just walked up and slapped him across the face! What in the name of all that was holy was going on...?

Dumbfounded, Hiko could only stand in a daze as Ayane yelled at him, attracting quite a crowd, as she lectured him about sending Kenshin off to the war in Kyoto, about it being wrong for a boy to fight in such a war, about how she was worried for his welfare... Hiko picked up only a few words as he stood and stared, trying to sort out exactly what he had been embroiled in by his deshi.

__

Flaming hair...Ishin Shishi... Shogunate in turmoil...Battousai...hitokiri...

That stopped Hiko cold.

The sun chose to set beyond the hills at that point, and a north wind blew down upon Seijuro Hiko, freezing him to his very heart. Seijuro Hiko trembled, a movement so fine and brief that none present could see it, but Hiko felt the movement of his own body, the weakness in his knees, the utter shock that threatened to reduce him to complete helplessness, and for the second time that day, his heart began racing. Except, this time, there were emotions that he was not accustomed to behind the rapid heartrate.

Ayane had continued to lecture him, oblivious to the inner turmoil of the man she was screaming at, entirely wrapped up in her anger and resentment, and she might not have stopped unto this day had not Hiko grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently.

"What did you say?!" he screamed.

Ayane was shocked at this sudden outburst from Hiko-sama, and Hiko, not in the best of moods, shook her again.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

Ayane stuttered..."g-g-gomen, H-Hiko-sama..."  
"ANSWER ME, CHILD!!! WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

Ayane whispered, "I said it was wrong for you to send Kenshin-chan to be the Ishin Shishi hitokiri, H-Hiko-sama..."

It was then that Seijuro Hiko's world collapsed.

__

Hitokiri...

Hiko did not remember walking back to his mountain, nor did he remember the people staring at him as he did, nor Ayane following him partways, pleading with him to tell her what was wrong, nor her father coming, retrieving her and casting a sorrowful expression at Hiko, understanding dawning in Tamataro's mind, having been told by his daughter what had happened and observing Hiko's vacant, shocked manner.

__

Not possible... not possible...

Usually, sake was enough to get him to relax no matter what the problem was, and Seijuro Hiko wasn't one to be uptight about anything at all in the first place. He had seen death, hatred, sorrow, love, despair, hope, joy, war, and peace,

and through all of it he had remained stubbornly irrepressible, unchanging and unswerving in his devotion to his duties and his sake.

Ah, yes, his sake...

He had recieved startling, disconcerting news that day; to be honest with himself, it had shaken him to the core of his being, something that had only happened once before in his life, and he didn't care for the feeling. Hiko liked feeling calm and on top of things, five steps ahead of everyone else, completely aware and on-guard, the man others turned to when knowledge and confidence were needed, but this news had shattered all his confindence, his arrogance, and perhaps even his faith.

Shaking, he poured himself a generous dose of rice wine, making himself focus on the cup and the liquid, and on the sensation it would cause in his throat and belly, on the stream of sake from the jug to the saucer, anything, anything at all, to keep from thinking...

__

There is no way. It is not possible. Even he is not that foolish...

With a feeble smirk, letting that thought comfort him, he raised the saucer to his lips...

__

Even Kenshin is not so stupid as to let himself be drafted into such a position...

****

Kenshin was an idiot, but he was not that gullible. Surely a student of the Hiten Mitsurugi could see beyond the political doublespeak,

the trickery behind the words of the self-servinig politicians, beyond the practiced smile and sureness of speech...

His deshi would never...

"I'll do whatever it takes to protect the people of Japan! I don't care what I have to do!"

...only to crush it in his fist, as the rage took him wholly.

The creatures of the mountain woods, usually peaceable and calm in the quite stillness characteristic of the lone resident of their mountain, were therefore somewhat shocked when the formerly silent kenjutsu master let out a roar that could be heard for miles, despite the wooded area. Every living thing for at least a thousand yards turned tail and ran as far as they could from the epicenter of this previously unfelt power, this power so great and terrible

that the hearts of normal men would fail them in their terror of it, sensing not only the sound

and force of his voice, but the sheer magnitude of his rising, furious ken-ki as well. Birds took to the sky, squirrels hid in trees, mice hid in their holes, and everything that could not hide or run merely trembled, hoping that the power wasn't coming for _them_.

Hiko screamed long and loud, his fury and sadness and utter despair threatening to tear him apart; he screamed as powerfully as he could, releasing the emotions welled up inside his troubled heart, and nature responded accordingly.

The trees around him bent and cracked and whined in response to his power and ken-ki. Leaves encircled his body, the wind whipping and howling around him as his muscular form twitched and flexed, barely able to contain the strength of his own swordsman's spirit. The gray sky turned darker, it's color closer to that of pitch than anything else, and the people of the village at the base of the mountain took shelter from the torrential storm that followed.

The storm lasted for hours - the scream for a minute. And even when the voice died down, few creatures stirred from their place of shelter.

Hiko lowered his arms and hung his head in the knowledge of what he had to do. Having vented his emotions, in a limited way, he stood quietly for a moment in the center of the raging storm, the lightning flashing overhead, torrential rains beating down on the white cloak of the Hiten master, his Shirasaya Nihontou in hand, his long hair blowing in the violent gales,

and their are no words in any language to describe the fear that the sight inspired in the woodland creatures who dared to come near. Without a word, Hiko whirled towards his cottage and stormed into it, the smallish residence shaking and creaking at the furious

presence of it's master. Quickly and concisely, Hiko swept up a container of water, dry provisions, and a knapsack, then turned and strode out of the building and 

towards the base of the mountain.

Towards the place where the Hitokiri Battousai was said to be based out of.

Towards Kyoto.

Seijuro Hiko had always been a man of action, and this day he had proven it. He now walked not as a man who loved life, but as a man who knew his duty and intended to do it, regardless of the difficulty of the task and of the pain it would cause him.

In the mind of the Hiten Mitsurugi master, the relationship was no longer master and student, but that of the Hunter and his Quarry.His eyes had taken on a different kind of shine - no longer burning with intelligence and wisdom, but with smoldering fury and determination - the pupils narrowed, becoming harder and almond-shaped, and the formerly black irises had become a terribly dark and foreboding...amber.

Seijuro Hiko was on the hunt, and the days of Hitokiri Battousai were numbered.

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Author's Notes - And Saitou thought Shishio's spirit was intimidating... Heh, heh, heh...

Wowie-zowie, I wrote this in two days, starting on the day I wrote the prolouge. And let me tell you something, it was fun! ^_^ I know the genre says action/adventure, and trust me, it will begin soon. I just wanted to get the backstory set up. Now Hiko's on the way to Kyoto, and the fun is gonna begin... Don't be suprised if I actually find a couple of battles for Hiko that might actually be a challenge... i.e., Battousai is toast if he confronts these guys (and girls)! Please read and review, let me know if you have any good ideas for bad guy and bad girl names! I know very few Japanese names... As for the ones I do know...

Tamataro - Uh... I dunno where I found this one! ^^'

Shiro - One of the Kyoto Oniwaban's names. The character is not the same, just the name.

Tsukasa - From the immensely popular .hack. ^_^

Yuki - No clue whatsoever. It just came to mind.

Ayane - I think this was from DOA2. Gosh, she's pretty...

Anyone reading this has probably noted I'm very inspecific about dates. 

Again, the reason is I have not seen the OAVs, so I don't

wanna write anything that conflicts with the RK timeline. ^_^ You'll see why eventually...

^_^ Thanks for reading!


	3. 03 On the Road

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: Disclaimer :

Sessha does not own Rurouni Kenshin, that he does most certainly not. :)

Hiko - *looking scary and stuf while walking to Kyoto in the storm*

*lightning strikes Hiko*

Hiko - @_@ Owie! *crumples on grass*

Kenshin - Shishou!!!

Saitou - Moron...

Sano - Blowhard...

Aoshi - ...

RK Women - SIR HIKO!!! *tend to Hiko*

Justice - CUT! Okay, who messed with the storm machine?!

AUTHOR'S NOTE - Alright, then, how shall we go from here...

Hiko heads toward Kyoto to settle Kenshin down... I'll try a little combat in this chappy,

and get to the serious stuff next update. How's that? _ _ Everyone content? Good! ^_^

Note - Thoughts are in italics, and quotations indicate spoken words. indicates scene change. **THIS** indicates time-slowdown stuff, so more happens in the moment than I actually have room for. ^^ Lame, I know.

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:REVIEW THANKS:

^_^ ^_^ ^_^ FIVE REVIEWS!!! Kewl kewl kewl kewl!

My heartfelt thanks to…

Maeve Riannon - O_O So Katsura is his last name? Thank you, I knew this not.

Thanks for your thoughts about the 'baka deshi' bit, I really was unsure about that…

As for people being a match for Hiko… ^_^ We all know it's impossible,

and maybe I should forget it... but it is action/adventure. I'll give something a go,

and depend on my reviewers to tell me how it flies... I have no beta reader, after all.

And as for what'll save Kenshin... no giveaways, but you're very perceptive, miss! o_O

kenshin-admirer - I'm glad you like it! And although I like to think I fear nothing,

I must admit, facing down a miffed Hiko would send me running... :)

Lucrecia LeVrai - It's true Kenshin was a shadow assassin, but I thought he was eventually

discovered... I'm being iffy about the date for that reason. Gohei knew him by his hair and stuff,

so I'm just ad-libbing here.... Hmmm... 

I'll check it out some more, let me know if I go wrong again! o_O

^_^ Thanks everyone!

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The Sword of Seijuro Hiko

Chapter Two - On the Road

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ORO

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His rage had not abated at all. If anything, it had only increased in scope and magnitude.

Seijuro Hiko was always intimidating, no matter his mood, and many people

would stand up and start a conversation with him as stand out in a typhoon

and not expect to be blown away; however, comparing the two sides of him, that is,

the Seijuro Hiko at rest to the battle-ready Seijuro Hiko was like comparing a June breeze

to a Fujita-5 tornado. That being, there was no comparison.

He strode purposefully down the wooded road towards Kyoto, his mind thinking only

of the Battousai and the madness he had brought to Japan; of the supreme devastation

that the Quarry could unleash upon an already-ravaged, war-weary nation while under the influence

of some backstabbing, silk-tongued politician. The thought provoked a feral growl from Hiko's

throat, and the small caravan of refugees that had been passing him, already having quickened

their pace to get past him, broke into a full-fledged dash for the bend in the road about three hundred

yards from Hiko's position. Mothers grabbed their children and fairly yanked them in the direction

of presumed safety, although they had nothing to fear from Hiko. His was the sword that protected the

people, that served the people.  
Unlike Battousai.

The very name made Hiko want to spit. Master of instant sword draw? Feh, he was nothing more

than an apprentice - while he did have talent with the Battou Jutsu - he made a habit of coming

back to that move when in a bind during training, and Hiko had tried to teach him to be a little less

predictable...(at the time, he had been pleased with the boy's knack for the skill,

practice in the form and mastery of it were neccessary before the teaching of the succession technique...)

but he was most certainly no master. And without the succession technique, he never would be,

not as long as he lived.

__

Not that he has long to live...

Again, a wave of despair washed over Hiko. Memories of camping out in the forest,

training, the boy's naivete and childlike logic to life's mysteries; Hiko's soul had been very much

healed from it's despairing state back then, coming upon a seven-year-old boy who had picked up

a sword to defend the women and had then buried them, as well as the attackers, after his failure.

His penchant for introspection was sometimes disturbing, and his sense of justice was beyond question...

At least, it used to be.

Hiko again released a growl, more menacing and more violent this time, thinking of all

the lives that were being torn apart by his unwitting baka deshi. He failed to grasp, even now,

that some government officials were merely people doing their jobs, not wanton rapists and murderers,

and because his deshi failed to realize this, he would assume that the entire government was evil

and needed to be destroyed. Which wasn't really untrue - Hiko trusted no government,

not one, whether it be monarchial, aristocratic, or democratic. Hiko scoffed at the notion

of democracy - mob rule, nothing more, he thought; but even Hiko would not think

to kill everyone in the government to achieve change...

His thoughts became progressively darker and more hopeless as he marched along towards

Kyoto, unhindered and unopposed by anyone along the road...

Until he came to the bridge.

Hik dispassionately observed the blue-and-green clad samurai that watched him approach-

obviously they guarded the bridge he was closing in on, and judging by the way they placed

themselves between the bridge and himself, he wagered they weren't going to let him cross

peacefully.  
_Feh. Ignorant fools._

One of the guards, apparently the leader, came forward about ten paces and stopped,

holding a hand up and ordering him to stop.

Hiko, in turn, continued walking, not even ackowledging the man's calls.

The leader's voice became louder and more insistent, and Hiko again ignored him.

At this point, the leader (obviously inept at reading ki, else he would have known Hiko

had no intentions of stopping) called to his men to prepare themselves, and drew his

own katana.

Hiko's eyes narrowed, considering the men before him. He was not in the habit of taking

orders, and thusly did not think to stop and answer any questions. Hiko knew there were two

options...

(A. Fight them.

(B. Jump over them and run.

Option B seemed ridiculous, and it would not educate the men before him at all,

so he chose option one.

Hiko withdrew his Shirasaya Nihontou and drew the glittering blade out.

The leader's eyes grew narrow and determined, and his men quickly unsheathed their

katanas and assumed a rather ungainly stance that Hiko found quite interesting.

__

Hiratsuki. So they intend to impale me, do they? Feh.

Loosening his grip on the smooth handle of the nihontou, Hiko flipped it over so that

the blunt edge was facing forward.

__

They are merely following orders to guard the bridge. They have done nothing to merit death.

This is what you fail to understand, deshi.

Hiko's eyes glittered dangerously as he came within the fifteen feet of the guard commander,

who recoild involuntarily at the sight of Hiko's burning amber eyes. His men, too, backed up 

a step, and Hiko entertained hopes that the men would simply continue backing away until

he passed over the bridge, free of incident.

...no such luck.

Having apparently found his grit, Hiko mused, the leader charged him with a howl,

his katana aimed for Hiko's throat.

__

Quick enough for a common soldier, Hiko noted, _but his form is too loose,_

and he's not focused enough.

Hiko sighed._  
Yet another amateur._

The unit leader was charging quick, the katana was only an inch from the tall man's jugular...

And then he was gone.

The leader's Hiratsuki impaled a tree to the immediate right of Hiko's former position,

much to his chagrin and confusion. His men, meanwhile, were completely dumbfounded.

It was then that they lost conciousness.

Moving with the incredible speed characteristic of the Hiten school, Hiko performed a Ryuu

Kan Sen, striking the leftmost guard's neck at exactly the point where his skull ended.

rather efficiently rendering him unconcious, then followed up with two more,

disabling the other two men in nearly the same instant.

Hearing three simulatneous grunts behind him, the commander whirled around to face

the sounds, and gaped in awe as the man he had just tried to slay had knocked out three

of his men in an instant. Hiko maintained the stance of the executed Ryuu Kan Sen for

a second before straightening and glancing over his shoulder at the astonished commander.

"If you'd like to remain concious, leave me be." Hiko said curtly.

The unit leader, to his credit, didn't run away screaming 'Demon!'.

He did, however, scream.

Which was not what Hiko expected.

"ATTACK!!!"

Hiko raised an eyebrow in suprise, rather impressed that this man had the wherewithal

to call for the twenty-four troops stationed beneath the bridge for aid. Hiko had figured

that this one would just freeze, and so he supressed a sigh, and waited impatiently

for the arrival of the reinforcements.

It wasn't a long wait.

Screaming various battle cries, the troops rushed Hiko from various directions,

all of them assuming Hiratsuki stances and thrusting their katanas in his direction.

Hiko, for his part, snorted.

__

Attack one man from all sides with a stabbing manuver? Such idiocy fairly begs for death.

Hiko leapt towards one group of charging soldiers, raising his nihontou for a downwards slash.

The troops halted their rush and began to slash at _him_ from various directions, and so

Hiko, sighing at their inexperience, jumped back three feet, deftly moved to the side of 

one unfortunate soldier, and performed a powerful Dou Ryuu Sen, lifting all six men into 

the air and effectively disarming them. Hiko struck their katanas away from them and 

struck each of them twice, in turn, before they even hit the apex of their ride into the sky.

Touching down, Hiko crouched low, waiting for the next group behind himself to

come and attack while he was apparently vulnerable. This was a grade-A mistake.

Whirling faster than any of them could see, Hiko struck one across the top of the head,

throwing the victim into one of his comrades, who lost balance and fell into another,

who in turn...

Utterly shocked, the leader of the Shinsengumi platoon could only stare at the attacker

(when he could see him) and sit, dumbfounded.

__

He's making a mockery of us! Look at the way he sighs before he attacks!

That patronizing...

Grunting angrily, the man yanked his katana out of the tree it had been embedded in,

having been working quite hard to remove it since the combat had begun.

Yelling his own battle cry, he rushed the arrogant fool as his men did.

Hiko, sensing the leader's approach, leapt up into the sky and came down thirty feet

begind the unwitting man.

The Shinsengumi captain, frustrated with his inability to strike the attacker,

furiously called for his men to flank him, and the remaining troops gathered together

behind him.

All told, there were ten left, including the captain.

Hiko stared at them with pale golden amber eyes, feeling them flinch under his gaze,

and found himself wishing again that these weaklings would remove themselves from his

path. Instead, the leader called to his men to prepare for a group Hiratsuki.  
The angry Shinsengumi seemed intent on taking down the lone swordsman by sheer

force of numbers. Considering that this had failed already, one would imagine that they

would come up with a different plan, but they did not.

Hiko supressed another sigh.

Two miles past the bridge, Seijuro Hiko continued on his way to Kyoto, passing various

soldiers, civilians, merchants, and other individuals, none of whom loitered in his presence.

He had dealt with the remaining troops rather quickly and had continued down the road without so

much as a word to his fallen (and unconcious) opponents, not caring to waste any more time than

neccessary. He had maintained a steady pace all the while, wishing to distance himself

as quickly as possible from the defeated soldiers, lest they wake up and come after him...

__

They were too battered to so much as twitch their nose. How could they follow me?

...or before the soldiers he had passed came after him upon seeing the defeat of the guard...

__

A distinct possibility, unless they side with the other faction.

...or some baka came up and asked him to join their side, upon seeing the bridge

and remembering the furious-looking swordsman they had passed along the road.

__

Feh. The last thing I want is for some fool to come try and recruit me.

Hiko scowled even more deeply, having not stopped scowling since he left his mountain

the night before. He was damp and a little hungry, so he decided to pull of the road,

eat, and let his cloak dry out.

Leaning against a fallen tree, Hiko looked up towards the sky and mourned the immenent loss

of his deshi, Kenshin.

__

This sword has brought me nothing but trouble all my life.

Eight years ago, he had taken in a tiny boy who had showed potential to be something

great in the world, and it had been Hiko's personal dream to mold the boy into a noble swordsman

who used his skills to defend the people of Japan. Which was what the boy thought he was doing.

__

Idiot apprentice...

They had been good times for Hiko; the kid seemed to be a walking source of amusement for Hiko,

whether it be girl trouble or some mischief in the forest, like that time Hiko had taught the kid how

to make a hammock...

Hiko's eyes softened a bit, and regained a bit of their former color. He chuckled softly.

Kenshin had done exactly as Hiko had said, but as the two of them sprawled in their respective

hammocks, Kenshin rather forgot what Hiko had told him about moving around in a hammock,

and had ended up falling out of it, into the damp grass below. The kid had said something

Hiko had found quite funny...

"...oro!"

...truth be told, Hiko had burst out laughing like he hadn't in ages, desperately holding his sides

so that they wouldn't split open, but ultimately ended up falling out of his own hammock, though he didn't care. Kenshin had merely blushed and protested that he did it on purpose, making Hiko laugh all the harder. They had both climbed back into their hammocks, and for an hour or so there was peace...

...until the kid awoke with a start and got up so fast the hammock had spun around three times,

trapping the kid inside.

Hiko, already sore from his last bout of laughter, had tried to stifle himself, and had succeded for

about five seconds when the kid 'oro'ed again.

And after all, even Seijuro Hiko had his limits.

Hiko sighed at the memories, wistfully staring up at the clouds in the sky,

wishing with all his considerable might that this duty might pass from him.

__

To have hunt down my own deshi...is without a doubt, the cruelest and most difficult thing

I have ever had to do as a master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu. Not even the teaching of

the Ama Kakeru Ryuu no Hirameki was so painful as this...And yet I must.

****

Must I?

He will continue to kill and kill as long as those political leaders command him.

He will lose himself in the conflict as he realizes the truth in my words and realizes

his own mortal sins. He will lose a piece of his own soul with every life he takes...

****

Will he?

...until he is nothing more than a shadow of a man, a hitokiri, a man-slayer of such power

and speed and skill that none in this dying nation will be able to confront him.

****

He will come back when he sees his error.

*disgust* No, he won't. He will continue to kill because he always finishes what he starts.

He will feel he has no option other than to end the conflict as quickly as possible, not realizing

that it will only make matters worse for himself and for Japan.

****

He did not finish learning the Hiten Mitsurugi. Perhaps he will not finish this either.

*despair* And leave the people around him to face death and destruction? He could not.

He will fight until there is nothing left of his soul and he becomes a mindless man-slayer

who knows nothing save the smell of blood. Whatever he eats, whatever he drinks,

it will taste of the blood of the men he has slain as a hitokiri. He will see everything

in the color of blood, and his clothes will become as red as his hair.

He will kill and kill and kill until he dies or until he kills himself.

This is the truth.

****

You don't know that.

*fiercely* I do!

****

You can't predict the future!

*furious* I can predict my own student!

****

Yet you could not see his becoming a hitokiri!

Hiko bared his teeth, gritting them so hard that they would have cracked had they been

those of another man. Leaping to his feet, he gathered up his belongings and

made his way back to the road, his eyes returning to their amber state,

the stress and toll of his task evident in them.

__

He must die. Better that I do it now, than to let him die in such a way.

His thoughts brought him no consolation as he continued to walk towards the place where his 

life would, for the most part, end. To kill his student would be tantamount to killing himself,

and Hiko could foresee no future for Japan if the best and brightest and most noble

of her new generation had to die in such a way...

Without realizing it, Hiko's own vision was becoming red, stained not with the blood of past victims,

but with that of the victim yet to come...

Walking slowly, wallowing in utter misery, Hiko suddenly became aware of the scent of smoke.

His eyes darted from left to right, searching for the source.

__

There!

A plume of smoke rising from over a hill to his left.

__

The source is about two miles distant. Undoubtedly pointless, mad, bloody battle

being fought by children and women against soldiers... I hate this damnable war...

Turning his attention from his immediate mission, the mighty master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu

suddenly turned to his left and dashed away, much to the shock of spectators around him,

who were trying to move _away _from the battle.

Hiko could only pray that he would not be too late to save _some_ life.

END CHAPTER 2

Justice's Corner - Something tells me that the poor idiots attacking that village are

in for some serious 'Kuzu Ryuu Sen' trouble.... ^_^

Wowie-zowie, another chapter in a single night. It's only about three thousand words, I know,

but this might actually turn out to be a 100,000+ if I can slow down enough to write an actual

story outline. Yes, that's right, ladies and gents, this is ENTIRELY AD-LIBBED!!!

Probably not the first time you've heard that, but for me, it's scary. o_o'

.

Please read and review, and mega-thanks to those who already have! ^_^

.

Justice - Inpuuuuut... *digs in beef stew*

Sano + Yahiko + Megumi + Tae - O_O

Kenshin - @_@x Demented de gozaru yo...

Kaoru - *nods*

Justice - *digs in rice looking for inspiration* Need...more...INPUT!!!

Hiko - *sips sake* Lunatic.

Kenshin - By the way, shishou, thank you for not _actually_ coming to kill me...

Kaoru - Yes, thank you very much! *bows low* I need my pookie!

Kenshin - *blush* Orooorororoooooo...

Hiko - *sips again* Who says I didn't? 

Kenshin + Kaoru - O_O  
Justice - *finds fortune cookie in fried rice* INPUT!!! ^_^

Kenshingumi - ~_~ Hopeless...

^_^ Thanks for reading!


	4. 04 Questions

****

: Disclaimer :

Sessha does not own Rurouni Kenshin, that he most certainly does not. :)

Justice - That fortune cookie was SO off.

Hiko - You _trust _those things, baka?

Justice - No. But it's fun to mock the cookie.

Kenshin - O_Ox NOOO!!!

Justice + Hiko - O_O

Kenshin - NEVER. MOCK. THE COOKIE.

Justice - @_@

Hiko - Superstitious baka...

Kenshin - You don't understand! The cookie has **_POWERS_**... _ _

Justice - ~_~

AUTHOR'S NOTES - Last chapter was BAAAAAAD.

There is only so long one can write before running out of steam, and that was my limit. 

I'm still suffering from a mild case of writer's block, i.e. WORK AND SCHOOL.

Darnit, it should be illegal for homework and real work to get in the way of my writing!  
I need practice!

In this chappy, Hiko will be hunting down some baddies, and learning a few things about

his own mind and convictions. This might be a little disturbing, but I'm really trying to demonstrate

the evil nature of the men in this chapter, and make Hiko question his direction in life.

All the same, my head hurts just writing some of these lines... 

Perhaps the rating should go up... Please tell me.

: REVIEW THANKS :

Ayashi1 - O_O I had wondered why anyone hadn't written something like this yet.

Guess I just should have waited a little longer, that I should have. Oh, well.

Please go and write it and let's see your vision of this particular scenario! ^_^

As to the OAV... Christmas shopping for parents and brother. Utterly broke, that I am.

^_^ Thanks for the review! And now...

The Sword of Seijuro Hiko

Chapter 04 - Questions

----- ----- -----

ORO

----- ----- -----

There were two kinds of men in this world, or so Seijuro Hiko saw it.

One was the kind of man that walked straight into any situation presented to him, confident and strong.

The other kind was he that tried to sneak around a situation.

Hiko was the first kind of man.

He had been running for about ten minutes now, and was now about a thousand feet from the village,

which afforded him a better view of the place, although Hiko had learned enough seeing it

from two thousand.

He was too late.

His pace unrelenting, Hiko dashed straight into the village and, drawing his sword, he began to search the village.

Six men lay dead, four evidently villagers, the other two were evidently bandits, judging by their crude

weapons and scruffy, slipshod grooming. Hiko grunted and moved on - he could do nothing for them, except

wish them happiness in the next life.

Walking amidst the burned houses and establishments, Hiko was thankful that there weren't many casualties.

The only dead were the six he had encountered earlier, and after three minutes of searching by sight, scent and ki,

Hiko could detect no wounded or escapees. He grunted again - most likely carted off by slavers.

__

That sounds familiar...

Hiko hated the very idea of slavery, as if one man had any right to own another. His deshi, having come

from a situation quite similar to that, had quite a clear view on that trade, as well as many others, i.e.

yakuzas, opium smugglers, etc. As pleased as he had been, however, with Kenshin's ethics,

it had gone a little far.

It had long been in Hiko's mind that it was the only way some people knew to survive.

He had told his deshi as much. Some lived simple, honest lives, eeking out an existence on their farms,

others sold their wares in the streets of the cities, others, not knowing how else to live,

murdered and stole and took advantage of others. The life of low-born bandits, of jobless peasants,

and dishonored ronin, the only life they could make for themselves. He had stressed this to his deshi

on several occasions, trying to break the boy of his black-and-white mind, but the kid had never listened.

__

They're only living as best they know how.  
He had once believed that.

It got harder to believe it as days went by.

Grunting, he cast his eyes downwards, and began checking for recent tracks.

__

A tough job, he noted. Having just been the scene of a battle, there were footprints everywhere,

and even Hiko could not distinguish between defender and attacker. The central portion

of the village was a mess, and impossible to glean any meaningful information from. _The outskirts, then._

Circling the perimeter of the village, he noted a cart trail leading off to the east,

about a four days old. Hiko dismissed it - the blood was dry, but not that old. Not to mention the fires...

Half a day at least, a day at most.

Continuing around the village, Hiko noticed another set of tracks, that of a large caravan

heading west. Hiko grunted - likely, there would have been a lot of people being dragged along

with the slavers, and most of them, if not all, on foot. Bending down for a closer look, he

cast a critical eye on the clearest footprints, and attempted, to the best of his considerable

ability, to distinguish between them.

__

There were eight women taken by the slavers. One of them was injured and staggered along the way.

Six or seven children, it's hard to tell, the tracks crisscross repeatedly. Four men went with them.

The bandits, no doubt.

Hiko stood up and began to follow the tracks, running in expectant silence.

Two hours after locating the tracks and beginning his pursuit, Hiko was beginning to wonder

how far such a caravan could travel in the space of a few hours. There were indeed cart ruts,

but not many horse tracks, and plenty of human footprints.

__

They're in a hurry to get somewhere. The tracks are spaced wide, verging on running.

Injured women and little kids cannot maintain such a hectic pace for long. What the...

Hiko halted his pace, straining his ears.

__

I heard something, but I feel almost nothing. A casualty?

It came again - a soft moan, almost beyond normal hearing, to his immediate right.

Walking off the road slowly, Hiko's composure began to collapse as he beheld a woman

in her late teens, bleeding from dozens of small cuts that ran along her slim figure, down her legs,

and even across her face. Whip marks.

Hiko held back an ominous growl as he bent down to check the woman for other wounds.

Running a practiced eye over her form, he noted that most of the blood was nearly dry. She had been here

for at least a few hours. Hiko didn't know whether this made him relieved or more furious.

In addition to the whip cuts that crisscrossed along her body, there was an extremely deep slash, 

like that made by a katana, running down her right eye, down to the base of her neck, a vicious slash,

indicating she had been something of a problem... Perhaps an afterthought to her other injuries?  
No, the wound was too old.

He thought back for a moment.

__

One of them was injured...

Hiko let himself growl and began to tear strips of cloth from his shirt, bandaging the most serious cuts,

and making a larger, tighter bandage across her scarred face. He moved as gently as he could,

taking care not to awaken the woman, who seemed to have either fallen asleep of unconscious, 

but the woman awoke as he began to tie the bandage around her forehead.

Startled, she tried to get up, but Hiko pressed her back down, and she quickly collapsed in fright,

her good eye fixed on Hiko, full of terror, and she whimpered quietly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he informed her quietly. "I'm pursuing the men that I assume did this to you."

The woman did not respond, she merely trembled. Her hand moved to her throat,

then over her kimono, gripping it tightly. She trembled all the more, and Hiko scowled. Not hard to guess

why she had made that particular motion.

"I said I wasn't going to hurt you. You can stop shaking like you're in a blizzard."

Uncertainly, she tried to look more fully into Hiko's eyes, but he pressed her down again.

"Listen, I have to pursue them, and I have to go quickly. I'll give you a choice -

You're not going to bleed to death, that is certain. I can leave you here, and send back help after I kill those

slavers and find a town, or I can take you with me while I hunt them down. I will travel fast and I will not 

stop for anything, however, and that will be your problem if something comes up."

Silent for a moment, she asked, "Who are you?"  
Hiko shook his head and scowled even more deeply, causing the woman to begin trembling again.

"I said stop that!" he hissed. "What's it going to be? I have to leave _now_. Stay or go, it's your choice."

She considered him, and finally said, "Go."

Hiko did not bother to acknowledge her response, but instead picked her up, gently,

and walked back to the road. The woman drew her arms up around herself, and Hiko

looked down at her.

"It will be rough, I have to go quickly."  
She nodded, as did Hiko.

"Very well, then." And at that, he began running again.

It wasn't terribly difficult to run with the woman in his arms, his strength was already beyond reason,

and he still wore the cloak of the Hiten Mitsurugi. Further, it had only been an hour since he had begun running

with her anyways. However, contrary to what he had said he would do, (which was all bluff)

he found himself stopping a time or two, since the woman quickly began shivering 

from the cold winds that the velocity that Hiko traveled at brought down. Sighing, he stopped and draped his cloak over her so as to keep her warm without crushing her under it's startling weight. It was, in fact, quite heavy and beyond the ability of normal men to lift or drag.

****

*A/N - I read in a manga translation that the cloak has ten eighty-pound weights at the shoulders. 

O_O Is that even possible? For anyone besides, Hiko, I mean...

Impatient though he was, he sat quietly and let the woman recover her stamina, and he gave her what provisions

he had on him for food, which she quickly devoured, and the rest of his water.

With another sigh, Hiko watched her rest quietly underneath his cloak, obviously no longer afraid of Hiko,

and he resisted the urge to growl at himself as he considered the events that had led to his current predicament.

__

I must be getting old and soft... Wait. No, not possible.

This scene repeated, minus the food, twice, and after that, the woman seemed to have adjusted to the cold winds.

After another hour of running, night had fallen, but Hiko's superhuman vision allowed him

to maintain his pace, even at night. He did not stop until he cleared a hill and caught sight of a large campfire

amidst a collection of carts, bandits, and miserable captives.

Coming to a screeching halt, Hiko walked off the road, setting his load down next to a small tree,

amidst a particularly thick patch of grass. He began to stand up, but the woman grabbed his cloak

and tugged. Hiko glanced down and knelt again.

"I've caught up to them. I'm got to go now, I'll return in a moment."  
She shook her head, and tried to say something.

Frowning, Hiko leaned closer and asked her to repeat herself.

Licking her lips, she whispered, "They're not just bandits, they're actually ronin. They'll kill you."  
Hiko smiled, not in arrogance, nor in anticipation, but an amused smile, although the woman flinched at the sight.

"We'll see."

She stared at him, watching his smile melt away. "What troubles you?"

__

What is that supposed to mean?

Frowning, he said, "I'm going down there to slay four men. It's not a thought or a duty I enjoy."  
"Your eyes say that much."

Now he was really puzzled. "What?"

She whispered, "I've never seen eyes that color... Strange, but beautiful, somehow..."

Hiko snorted. She was delusional from the blood loss. He stood and turned to go.

"I'll return in about five minutes. Try and think of a place to go while I'm gone. I have no intentions

of carting you all around with me across Japan."

And with that, he vanished into the night.

Seven women quivered silently in the cold dark of the night as their kidnappers eyed them from the fire,

looking them over with a lustful eye. It wasn't difficult to tell what was on their minds.

Grinning, one of them stood up and walked towards them, and called out, "It's warmer over here, ladies!

Wouldn't you like to join your generous hosts and share a little sake around the campfire?"

The comment elicited a round of sinister laughter from the other men around the fire, and they began yelling

obscene remarks to the women, who in turn looked away and continued quivering.  
All that is, except one younger woman.

"Pigs," she spat.

The men's laughter died down quickly, while the other women moved to hush their bolder companion.

The one standing between them looked back at his comrades over his shoulder.

"I think this one wants to go behind the carts, boys!"

This incited another round of laughter, more base this time around. One of the men began sharpening

his knife, and another threw his companion closest to the women a whip.

Grabbing it, the bandit twirled it in the air, performing a few simple tricks, which his companions applauded

loudly. He turned back to the women and cracked the whip at them.

The leather cord caught the offending girl across the face, and she cried out as it drew a ring of blood across

her pretty face.

The men hooted in laughter, and the whip-man bowed to his accomplices.

"More! More!" they chanted.

Grinning from ear to ear, the whip-man said, "Shall we take her back, gents?"  
The children, awakened by the noise, cried silently as they tried to tend the wounded girl's face.

"Nah, just do it here!" one man returned.

The oldest woman amongst them looked back at their captors, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Please, just leave us alone!" she whispered.

Without turning, Whip-man replied, "Order has to be maintained in a classy operation like ours,

hag. We can't have upstarts like her causing trouble like that."  
"Yeah, she's got to be taught a lesson!" one man drawled.

"Examples must be made of rebels like her," another said dryly, his lust barely disguised.

"PUBLIC examples!" the third added.

The stricken girl, infuriated rather than terrified at her impending fate, stood up and told the men

exactly where they could go with their lessons.

Whip-man crossed his arms, still without turning, and drawled, "Maybe we should discipline the younger ones,

then, eh?" turning his head and eying one of the younger girls.

The bolder girl suddenly lost her nerve, and she began to tremble as she followed his line of sight to

the girl behind her.

Shaking in rage and terror, she turned back and said, "You wouldn't. Even you are not so base and vile..."  
Cracking the whip, Whip-man turned his eyes to his mates.

"Maybe we should discipline the lot of them, eh?" he hissed.

"Yeah!" was the chorus that returned.

"No!" the young woman choked out. "Take me! Leave them alone!"  
"Oh, it's too late for that, mis-" one began, then stopped. His pupils shrunk and he pointed behind his partner.

"D-d-demon!"

Whip-man whirled around and came face-to-face with...

The eyes of Seijuro Hiko.

Hiko's dark, honey-colored eyes grew darker and more violent as he glared at the men before him.

"W-who the hell are you?" Whip-man demanded.

"The only thing you deserve is a slow, painful death, and I am unwilling to give you even that," came the cold reply.

Unsheathing his nihontou, he flipped the blade again, for the sake of the children's eyes.

Faster than the eye could perceive, Hiko dashed behind the man and twirled around, his nihontou at neck level,

and executed a powerful Ryuu Kan Sen Tsumuji.

There was an audible snap, and Whip-man was no more.

Whirling around, Hiko's eyes were aglow with a light of their own, the glittering orbs promising death to those

who remained, and he sheathed his weapon and slid into a low Battou Jutsu stance.

The one who had first perceived Hiko's arrival attempted to stand, but his arm gave out in his fright,

and he fell onto his back, his eyes never leaving Hiko's own burning ones.

Hiko's eyes fell upon the unlucky slaver, and a lance of coldness shot through the bandit's heart.

__

So cold... So very cold... And yet they're burning.

Desperately, he began crawling backwards, trying to escape the furious swordsman before him, and then,

finding strength in his terror, he turned and, stumbling to his feet, began to run.

Hiko's eyes narrowed and grew more intense. _No, there is no escape for you._

Pushing off his right leg, he covered twenty feet in a single bound.

A bone-crushing blow, and the bandit's eyes closed for the last time.

Averting his gaze from the dead man, Hiko leapt towards the remaining two bandits, who tried to

stand and draw their weapons, but Hiko never gave them the chance.

In a flash he was in the air, flipping upwards and landing on a tree branch. Crouching from his momentum,

he pushed off again and came down equally fast in a flawless Ryuu Tsui Sen, the branch snapping behind him and

following him to the ground.

The man fell without a sound, and Hiko's nihontou whipped around and slammed into the other one's stomach.

The final bandit's yelp of anger trailed off to a strangled grasp as his breath left him in a rush.

For a moment, Hiko halted his assault, as the man tumbled towards the ground.

**__**

Perhaps he was right...

Perhaps they truly are evil. Perhaps they ARE irredeemable.

Deshi... Were you the one who was truly correct?  
I...I don't know anymore. Not after seeing this... so much of this. I'm... so tired.

Tired of this.

'They're only living as best they know how.'

Tired of them!

'I can't stand by and watch as innocent people suffer!'

I'll not tolerate it anymore!

Before the man had fallen even a foot, Hiko's sword struck below the base of his neck,

and the final slaver fell, dead, to the ground.

Hiko stood and stared into nothingness for what seemed like an eternity, wondering what was happening

to his mind. 

__

I feel... so old. So tired. My dreams are nothing. My fantasies, my aspirations, my hopes, they amount to

nothing at all. The only thing that matters is the truth.  
This will never end until all evil is destroyed. That's what he said.

Was he right...? Or was I?

Should I have gone with him? Together, we could have destroyed anything that arose to harm this nation.

I'm older, wiser; I could have prevented those who recruited him, could have pointed him another way.

He might not have become a hitokiri, and I could have been there to guide his sword and channel that

rage he feels. I have failed him. I have failed my shishou. I have failed this nation.

I let those backstabbing politicians usurp his idealism, corrupt his power, and destroy his innocence.

What have I done?

There was utter silence in the camp, save for an occasional hiss and crackle from the large campfire

in the center of the camp. Hushed awe reigned supreme amongst the former captives, who expected

the white-caped man to slay them at any moment, but even this thought could not rouse them from their shock.

No one thought to run, or rather, gave it a second thought - he was far too swift. They did not wish to draw

his attention, nor did they want to stay and find out if he was going to kill them too, but they could not

see anything that they could do about it.

For the longest time, no one moved.

The wounded woman, her injury long since forgotten, could only stare at the powerful man who had slain

four men in ten seconds. She felt a little scared, and at the same time, extremely curious as to who this man was.

__

So fast and strong and skilled... What kind of kenjutsu school did he attend, to become so powerful?

The silence continued, Hiko, lost in his own thoughts, the displaced villagers, lost in theirs.

Eight long minutes passed. The tension, which Hiko was oblivious to, grew thicker and more pervasive

with each passing minute. Finally, he awoke to the eerie silence.

He turned slowly, fixing his brilliant golden eyes on the huddled group of humanity, which seemed to cringe as

one under his terrifying, yet entrancing gaze.

Hiko was growing tired of people trembling when he looked at them. He resisted an urge to scowl, and tried

on a smile for size.

No easy feat for a man who knew only how to smirk, at least consciously. Still, though, he tried.

This only seemed to scare the group more. This antagonized Hiko in turn, but he was careful not to show it.

__

I think they've had enough trouble for one night.

__

END Chapter 3

...as I said, writer's block.

Ah, well. I wanted a lot more combat in this chapter, but I was still thinking about a reviewer's observation

about no one being a match for Hiko. I found a way around it, and it's not terribly original, but hey,

it works! ^_^ It'll be a chapter or two before I get there, though...

But, anyhow, I got a GREAT idea just as I finished fretting over and writing the first draft of this chappy,

(it was a thousand words longer), so I scrapped the draft and wrote this instead. I hope everyone likes it...

I feel strange writing so much inner conflict. I have to think it all out in my mind, the whole

'how would Hiko respond?' bit, and after a while it has an effect on you.

I feel angsty. ^_^

Next chapter will find Hiko arriving in a burnt Kyoto, where the Ishin Shishi have scattered,

the Battousai is long gone, and very litttle for Hiko to go on from there. I better head to the Battousai Shrine

and read up on events around this time...

Hopefully, next chappy will come within two weeks, unlike this one...   
BTW, do you think I should scrap the mini-comics like the one in the disclaimer? It seems

to conflict with what I'm trying to write...

R+R!

And as always...

Thanks for reading! ^_^


	5. 05 Tired Souls

****

: Disclaimer :

Sessha does not own Rurouni Kenshin, that he most certainly does not. :)

Justice - *eyes an egg roll* Food!

Kenshin - O_O Wait! Those are for Miss Kaoru, they are!

Justice - She won't miss one...

Kenshin - You'll put that back, you will! *draws reverse-blade sword*

Justice - *holds out egg roll in defense* Will not!  
Kenshin - Will too!

Justice - Not!

Kenshin - Too!

Justice - Hey, thanks! *grabs another one*

Kenshin - @_@x Orooooooo...

Hiko - ~_~ Idiots...

Director - CUT! Hiko, you're not in this one! Out! OUT!

Hiko - *grumbles* *sneaks egg roll*

Director - Okay, places, everyone! Take two!

Hiko - I will. *nabs another*

Justice - *mouth full* Anuther tuu? ^_^

Kenshin - @_@x ARGH!

...I have a question. Since the 'u' is usually silent unless doubled up, is it pronounced

'Ka-ow-rew' or 'Ka-owr'...? Is the 'u' silent? Did the CN version goof? @_@ Must know...

AUTHOR'S NOTES - Seijuro Hiko has killed before, indeed, he was a man-slayer in his own right

before he had found Shinta, but Hiko, bowing to no living man, has never known the stress and toil

of delivering 'Heaven's Justice'. In his haste to reach Kyoto and slay his student, he has perhaps ignored

the possibility that his deshi is as unhappy with the situation as Hiko is. Now, with uncertainty in his mind

regarding the path he has chosen, the evils of the world facing him again, and the memories of life

before the master-student conflict began, Hiko is left to a very unfamiliar feeling... hesitation.

: REVIEW THANKS :

Oro! Eleven reviews! ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ Orooooooooo... This is so _kewl_, de gozaru yo...

By the way, having read all of your stories, I would like to recommend to all my reviewers to read

the other reviewer's stories. There is a great cache of talent here, and it would be wise to indulge yourselves

and read it... ^_^

the sacred night - Arigatou! I, too, think Hiko is underappreciated. But then, so is Enishi.

*gasp* Maybe Enishi will appear in this story? O.O Would that be a good idea, or would it be forcing it?  
Input, please...

Master of Time and Space - Arigatou! Yes, I know very little about the Bakumatsu era, but I think,

at this point, that it's only helped my writing - knowing little about the era, I've had to work harder to establish

my view of Hiko and his perception of the times, as well as keeping the date iffy so as to provoke myself into thinking harder about what I write... ^_^ It all worked out, I think.

Hitokiri-san - Arigatou! Inner conflict is somethin I love. o.O It is the engine by which the character changes

and by which we authors (and authoresses) can express not only our views of that character, but perhaps our own

feelings and uncertainties through that character. (Although that is not the case here - this is purely Hiko. o.O)

O_O Please don't set me up as Kenshin - Hiko might kill me before I finish the next few chappies...

And unlike Kenshin, I am no Hiten master... I'll last about one second...

Maeve Riannon - Arigatou! True, Kenshin was a shadow assassin, but I have set up a device by which this has been reconciled. o_O It will be a while before this plot device is seen, but it is there. 

As for the Shinsengumi... o_O Those cats can't beat Hiko. Why do they even try? ^_^

For Hiko's destination, well... that is a secret. ^_^

sam - Calm down, calm down! Kenshin is my absolute favorite character of all time and I have no intentions of

killing him off. That seems... criminal. o.O

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Please keep reading and responding!

The Sword of Seijuro Hiko

Chapter 05 - Tired Souls

----- ----- -----

ORO

----- ----- -----

Rather than get started moving that night, Hiko had decided to let the former captives sleep for a while and recover

their strength. After consulting with the woman he had found along the road, it had been decided that they

would be taken to a small village about thirty miles from their current location. This put Hiko considerably

out of his way, but he did not mind it at the moment, having much to consider about his decisions in recent days

and where they were leading him.

Night had long since fallen, and the children were soundly asleep amidst the women, who were also fast asleep,

safe and secure in the presence of their unknown benefactor. It had only been a matter of a few sentences

between them before the women had completely trusted Hiko, and had grown as friendly and kind to him

as if he had been an old family friend dropping in for tea.

This disturbed Hiko on a fundamental level.

__

Such naiveté. They have known me for all of an hour now, and yet they sleep so deeply, with no thoughts

to possible deceit or betrayal. In this day and age, more than any, it is the time for mistrust and suspicion.

To simply - trust; without any reservations or misgivings; is this even possible anymore?

Glancing sidelong at the huddled group, he observed the youngest of the adults, a pretty young woman

with dark eyes and a magnificent spirit. She had been the first to speak to him, and she had not spoken shyly or

uncertainly, but with confidence and power. Hiko had fairly beamed at her courage and grit; she had placed herself between Hiko and the other captives, picking up a katana dropped by one of the slavers.

Hiko flinched imperceptibly, his eyes narrowing to almond-shaped slits of pure fury - they slowly traced along the deep slash left across her pretty face; a memento from the whip-bearing bandit and his friends.

Hiko recalled that he had always wished a happier afterlife to those who fell by his sword in years past -

it had been years since he had been required to kill a man, though that didn't mean much.

The memories stuck with you, no matter how strong your constitution or will, and Hiko could remember the face

of the first man to die by his sword as well as the ones that had just died.

He found, however, that his mentality towards them had changed drastically. Instead of wishing them happiness,

he now cursed them to whatever fate God saw fit to give them. His blood ran hot in his veins, though the 'battle'

(if it could be called such) had been over for more than two hours.

__

Such wickedness... I could **feel **their lust for the woman, and beyond that.... No, I won't even think it.

Let them burn forever for thinking such things. The deepest, hottest fires of Hell are reserved for men

such as they, and that is as it should be, for they deserve their fates. 

His eyes scanned the small group. The children were fast asleep, their minds somehow detaching themselves

from the horrors they had seen and heard, (such abilities lived only in the minds of children) and returning them 

to a place where they were safe and happy. A giggle came from one of the girls, and a wistful smile came to Hiko's lips as she wrapped her small arms around a makeshift pillow, evidently thinking it was a stuffed animal friend

of hers. Hiko allowed himself a small chuckle.

His eyes, slowly returning to black, smiled as well, amused and heartened by the sweet innocence

of children. He'd put up a front as best he could, but he had a very soft spot for children in his heart of hearts.

Hiko's eyes stopped smiling, and he frowned.

He closed his eyes, remembering...

It had been a long while since he'd visited that place. He kept his sensitive side well hidden, buried under the machismo and the arrogance, so others would not see the real power behind his Hiten Mitsurugi. Other sword styles

depended on the calm, the lack of emotion, the peace inside one's heart, but such things would only hinder Hiko.

His was the sword that _felt_, that was driven upon the pent-up anger and sorrows that the age brought upon him.

A sword driven by emotions, yet a well-ordered, driven sword; such was the reason that Hiten masters served no one.

The sword driven by the heart was rendered both meaningless and impotent when it was not driven by the user's heart, but by the heart of others. To blindly follow orders, to not fight because you _feel_ you must, but instead because

you were made to do it, was to bring the sword that soared to the heavens, above the mountains and even the clouds,

that flew even unto the stars, down from the skies and stars and chain it to the ground.

Yet even when chained, the Hiten Mitsurugi still brought unearthly, unbridled power to the user, and unbridled power in the hands of one who is bridled led to one thing.

Chaos.

Hiko, opening his eyelids, leaned his head back to look at the stars.

God only knew it had been a long time since he had done that, too.

__

That damnable philosophy continues to haunt this world even in this age. "The needs of the many..."

Hiko had a man named Marx to thank for that, if memory served. He made a note to kill that man

if he met him in Heaven, or to pursue him to Hell, if neccessary.

But then, it was not that fool's fault, really. Many people thought like that. Example - the man who

recruited Kenshin to be a hitokiri in the first place.

Scowling, Hiko made a note to kill that man as well.

__

No different than placing the boy on some pagan altar and offering him as a blood sacrifice.

No, it's worse. At least there the sacrifice keeps his soul, if not his earthly life.

The formation of a new government, dedicated to the people, to serving and protecting them...  
Nice ideal, if only they'd pay attention to their own goals.

A part of Hiko's mind quietly wondered how many innocents had died in the attempt to reach this

better, more equal goverment, which was supposed to protect the very people it was slaying.

They could not bring the people happiness, because they obviously did not know what it was,

else they would not deprive Japan's children of their parents, and continually damage and destroy

Japan's future citizens, soldiers, and leaders. Blind fools.

The other part of his mind continued thinking of his deshi and the choices he had made.

__

Ignorant child. He brings death and terror wherever he goes now. All of Japan fears his Hiten blade,

something out of legends and wives' tales; people of these days never considered that such power could

exist in the world anymore. I wonder if there are any men in Japan besides myself that are capable of challenging

him, as he is now.

The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu was created with the intent to protect and serve the people of Japan.

The techniques had been developed, as well as the methods for increasing speed and power,

solely for that purpose. And yet, the Battousai existed. Such contradiction was rare.

As a hitokiri, Kenshin would have no say in who was targeted and marked for death, or why,

or when. His sword would destroy those determined to be 'evil' by those above him,

and surely even Kenshin would have to see that not all of the people he went after

were wicked and corrupt to the degree he imagined.

Hiko scowled, wondering how many people Kenshin had slain that had nothing to do

with the murders and rapes and enslavement that infuriated him so much.

He also wondered how many individuals had been slain in their own homes.

How many children had awoken and rushed into their father's office or bedroom, having

come to say good-night again, or perhaps having awakened from a nightmare, to another one.

How would they react upon seeing their father's...

Every muscle in Hiko's body went rigid, bristling with fury, and it was only force of will

that kept him from dashing into the night and running all the way to Kyoto to kill that idiot apprentice.

He gritted his teeth and tried to ease his fury by degrees, watching the stars overhead, listening to the wind

in the grass, anything to keep from thinking about it...

He tried watching the children again, but that only made him more furious.

As the minutes passed, Hiko felt himself calm down a little, and he began to think again,

more carefully this time.

A hitokiri, unlike a Hiten Mitsurugi user, placed no value on life, not the target's, nor his own.

The hitokiri's blade, not like the Hiten blade, had no positive emotions to guide and control it.

Without placing any value on life, anyone would be fair game to the evil blade Kenshin now wielded.

After all, nothing was sacred to a hitokiri.

There would only be fury behind that sword, a cold kind of fury, colder than any other.

An anger directed not at the enemy, not truly, but at oneself, a terrible kind of anger that stripped

the heart of emotions instead of using them.

The lack of heart would then feed the irrational fury, since it was the lack of feeling that allowed the hateful

rage to nest in a man's heart, and that would tear away at the heart even more, the cycle continuing until the heart was no more and the Hiten user could no longer distinguish between ally, enemy, and self.

Hiko shuddered at the thought. To lose oneself wholly in mindless rage, to know nothing except the field of battle

and the blood of men; this was what would happen to Kenshin.

__

Heart of sword...

The boy's stubborn will and just heart would stay the fury for a long while - he was more dedicated to life and protecting it than any Hiten master before him, more so even than Hiko himself. It would protect him for a time,

although it would be a tragic time; the boy's mind would be reeling from the incongruencies of his new existence,

trying to make sense of it and reconcile the ideal he fought for with the method it was 'gained' by.

__

The life of a Hiten Mitsurugi-wielding hitokiri. How infuriatingly ironic.

No two terms, except righteousness and wickedness, could possibly be more opposite from each other.

And like good and evil, the two would war inside of Kenshin, The Hiten and the Hitokiri.

In any normal circumstances, the Hiten would win. In any normal circumstances, the comflict

would not even exist.

But willingly subjecting himself to the 'cause' of the Ishin Shishi would strip the Hiten sensibilites and principles of the power they needed to protect Kenshin's heart, mind, and soul, and of the power needed to slay the Hitokiri in Kenshin's heart.

Hiko shut his eyes tightly, and suppressed a need to scream at the idiocy of his pupil, and at the unfairness

of the world, and to express his venom to the man who had brought Kenshin to this abomination of an existence,

this crossroads of life and death, where Hiko would be required to slay his pupil, rather than let him die from

his own madness. Either way, he would die, but the Hitokiri would kill Kenshin more surely.

His soul, anyways. Which was worse than dying physically, in Hiko's mind. The utter destruction of his life

and consciousness. 

Nonexistence.

Hiko hung his head and contemplated the strength of the Hiten Mitsurugi, the emotion that made it

strong, that drove the blade into conflict with evil. 

It wasn't a simple answer, but after thinking it over for a while, he believed he had found it.

Anger.

Pure, unadulterated rage towards the unregenerate evils of Japan.

Yet even though it was the sword that was driven by anger, it was also driven by love. Yes, the true power

of the Hiten lay in that particular emotion - protectiveness, the need to defend others, to defend life, love,

and innocence...

Innocence.

Opening his eyes, watching the children again, Hiko felt a kind of calm come over himself.

Not a lack of emotion, but rather, a sureness of emotion, a certainty of feeling that flowed through his

soul and restored his resolve and strength.

This was the strength and the hallmark of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, and Hiko knew it well.

The long-forgotten smirk flashed over his face for a moment, replacing the ever-present scowl that had creased his handsome features for more than a week now, and it was gone just as quickly, but the effect lingered. 

He knew who he was and what he was doing, where he was going.

The world could be burning itself to ashes all around himself, but he was still Seijuro Hiko.

And nothing was ever going to change that.

Not even the death of his deshi.

__

...funny how I end up lying to myself, after all those lessons on honesty.

His gaze turning from the children, his eyes settled again on the whip-mark across the young woman's face.

He stared at the wound for a moment, then turned away, cursing again.

His resolved, strengthened by his internal monologue, began to waver again, as reality crashed back

into his mind.

__

And yet, for all my power, I was not able to prevent her injury, nor the death of her townspeople, nor the emotional

wound that I know will haunt those children unto the end of days. All my training, my strength, the very sword

I carry with me...

His fists clenched, unbidden, and Hiko, frustrated, folded his arms to keep them from shaking in rage.

__

...it is all for nothing. Nearly so, anyways. And yet one would think I would be numb to these truths by now.

But to become numb was to lose feeling, and that would lead Hiko down a path very similar to that

his deshi now walked. The path of the man-slayer.

No, he would never grow accustomed to these horrors. His mind could not accept that train of thought.

Refused it outright.

This thing Hiko and Kenshin shared - their fury at the evils of the age. And yet, it had led them to such differing paths - Hiko could only blame himself for failing to properly teach the boy...

__

Shishou... What would you have done? What did I do wrong? Where did I fail in teaching him?

Lost in his inner thoughts, Hiko did not notice himself dropping off, nor did he notice the peculiar

feeling that had overcome his senses...

__

Where am I?

Startled, he quickly surveyed the area, taking note of the breed of tree, the grass, the cool, crisp mountain air...

...the very familiar lands scars that spoke of a titanic clash between master swordsmen...

Hiko was now thoroughly disquieted.

__

My mountain... I'm back on my mountain. I must be dreaming.

He snorted.

__

Baka, baka, baka.

He could not remember the last time he had actually slept. That is, fully slept. Over the years, he had made a conscious note to never fall so deeply asleep that he would have trouble identifying threats around himself;

being a Hiten Mitsurugi master brought a certain paranoia to an individual, and Hiko was no exception.

If anything, he was the rule that disproved the exception. Kenshin had found this out the hard way, having snuck

up on Hiko one day to suprise him for his birthday... the kid would have beet cut in twain had not Hiko recognized him at the last possible second.

That said, he was indeed suprised.

Sighing in his dream-state, Hiko attempted to wake himself up.

****

(A/N - How did he do this? I've no clue. :) Hypothesize.)

Nothing.

Again, he tried to awaken from his sleep, to force his eyes to open...

Nothing.

His dream-eyes opened, at any rate, and Hiko quirked a brow.

__

What's going on? Why am I unable to awaken?

He stewed for a moment.

__

Hold on a second...

A terrible (and utterly valid) thought crossed his mind.

__

Am I dead?  
He mused at this notion for a moment, then snorted.

__

Feh. As if anything could kill me.

How ridiculous for him to even consider that notion. Well, that was what happened to people when they dreamed.

Although, Hiko's subconscious seemed to think up some strange notions.

Evil notions, at that.

__

Kill the thought, kill the thought, evil thought, bad thought, Aku, Soku, Zan...

Chuckling, Hiko decided to walk around the mountain a bit and clear his mind.

__

Let's see... This is the clearing where I taught him the Dou Ryuu Sen... So I'll head west a bit.

Back to the hut he called home. Hiko sighed, and shook himself, shedding the heavy thoughts he carried

for a while, and resolved to just relax a little and reminisce.

Taking a deep breath, he started walking back to the cabin, perhaps to a closet full of sake.

Dream-sake, but sake nonetheless.

Strange how dreams had a way of making you do exactly what you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Hiko scowled more deeply than he had since learning of the Battousai's existence.

__

Heaven must have something against me. Even here, I cannot escape reality.

Still about a thousand feet from his home, he could sense a presence, and a most powerful one at that.

Hiko had always described ki as a manifestation of colors to Kenshin, and had tried to portray how certain 

emotions could be 'seen' by someone trained in such things. Physical manifestations aside, with this skill, 

Hiko could read his opponent's soul simply by gazing at them, not even into their eyes, 

although the eyes usually told the story behind the ki.

This ki was both powerful and dangerous - Hiko could feel an unidentifiable hint of deadly fury in the line

and flow of the individual's spirit. It was full of rage and sorrow, but they were blanketed under a mask

of serenity and calm that Hiko found quite familiar. It felt strangely like his own ki.

It he hadn't known he was standing where he was, he might have thought he was sensing himself.

Confusion and uncertainty bound and chained by a devotion to duty and to the people around him.

It lacked the arrogant air that Hiko possessed (obviously a character fault of the man he was dream-sensing)

but other than that, the two kis he were disturbingly similar.

Right down to the boundless love hidden deep inside the heart.

Yet even though the darker emotions were masked and covered, Hiko could almost _taste _the turmoil in the

person's heart. A chaotic heart it was, one that struggled for clarity and order, for an orderly, sensible life,

for the past that was so much simpler...

__

Oh, no...

Kenshin.

__

Kami-sama, anyone but him, anyone at all...

What would he say to such a manifestation? He desired to avoid speaking to his deshi above all things,

fearing that the conversation would only make the end harder, for both of them.

If he had to slay his deshi, he would do it quickly and cleanly; Kenshin would have no clue what was going on,

and there would be no pain... A fat lot of good it would do Hiko, though, to have to look into his deshi's eyes

one more time before the end came.

No matter if it was a dream, it wasn't going to make things any easier on him.

Eyes narrowing, he tried to take a step back...

...but his foot went forward.

He tensed, not moving an inch. A single bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, the air around him thick

with his rapidly destabilizing ken-ki.. He wanted to turn and run, to run far away from it all...

But he had to talk to him. If only in a dream, he desired one last talk with his deshi.

It was taking the coward's way out, to speak to a dream instead of the boy himself, and Hiko knew it,

yet it was all he was capable of doing at this point.

And it was, most possibly, the most he would ever be capable of.

Quietly, he gathered what courage he could, and strode into the small clearing where he had last seen his deshi.

Perhaps he would not even be speaking to Kenshin, but his mind's conception of the Battousai.

The man-slayer he knew his deshi had become.

A distinct possibility, but he did not care at the moment.

He would gain nothing by hesitating forever.

A small figure sat outside a familiar hut, his katana in hand, the wakizashi he carried laid in the grass

at his feet. The person was slim, scrawny even, but held an unmistakable aura of power about him,

a dangerous power, so forbidding and dark that none could gaze at him and remain the same thereafter.

Seijuro Hiko was no exception.

Standing three feet behind his deshi, Hiko tried to make sense of all that he was feeling.

A mild breeze picked up across the clearing, rustling the grass and leaves, yet Hiko could hear no sound.

A songbird alighted upon his hut, bursting forth in a blissfully lighthearted series of tweets and chirps,

yet he could hear it not.

The thunderous pumping of the blood in his veins was all that he knew.

Amidst the silence and the sounds, Hiko heard something that nearly broke his emotional control.

"Gomen, shishou."

His heart stopped for a moment, started again, and Hiko hung his head in sorrow. Stepping forward,

he bent down and sat next to his deshi-turned-man-slayer.

The grief and horror hit home, and the two sat in a despairing silence. Neither spoke for a long while,

but instead watched the birds of the mountains in their carefree flight, and simply drifted for a while.

It was Hiko who broke it first.

"How goes the Revolution, deshi?"

Kenshin, for his part, bowed his head, his long bangs shrouding his eyes from view. He smiled an empty smile.

"It has been as you said it would, Shishou." the boy replied after a time. "Everything has been as you said it would."

Hiko bowed his head as well.

"I should have listened to you. I should never have joined the war. All that has come of it has been sadness and anger and hate." Kenshin's right hand tightly gripped his katana, and Hiko had to force himself to not reach for his own blade. The boy was very different now... "Since I left the mountain - I -" his voice faltered for a moment, and his eyes,

hidden from view, briefly shifted to a deep gold. "I have killed at least three hundred men, some Shogunate, some guards, some I don't know. All died at my hands. All died in the name of 'Heaven's Justice'. " At this, Hiko scowled,

as did Kenshin. "So much blood has been spilled that the rivers are sometimes red at night, and the soil seems to be stained with it. To me, even the moon seems drenched in blood. Yet they say I fight for the sake of the new era. Kenshin looked up at the sky for a moment, bathing in the bright, golden light, then turned his head and

glancing at Hiko sideways. Hiko could not keep himself from flinching at the horror and sadness in his deshi's eyes.

"So many have died, shishou. Not even all by my hand. When I first came to Kyoto, I thought that I could fight for a month or two, I thought that the job I had been given would be an infrequent one, that I would only be pursuing a small group of men who stood in the way of peace." Kenshin's eyes hardened at this, and Hiko watched him more closely. "Do you want to know how many men stand in the way of peace? How many men there are that, by their

very existence, keep this bloody madness from ending?" Kenshin snorted. "Too many. Far too many. I can remember each of their faces before they died. There are simply too many to count. So much death..."

Kenshin's countenance dropped, and he made a slight choking sound. To Hiko, it sounded like nothing so much

as a man trying to hold back a lifetime of tears, yet the boy was barely fifteen now.

__

Damn that monster who brought him to this. If ever I find him...

Kenshin covered his face with his hands, and he began to quiver before Hiko, something that Hiko had never seen

before. His suprise was muted by bald-faced shock, however, as his deshi suddenly threw his head back and began screaming at the sky.

Hiko made no move to stop him - he felt like screaming himself. What hope did this world have if this boy, this _child_, was forced to take up this wicked blade in the name of Heaven's Justice...

__

I should have went to Kyoto long ago. I should have slain every one of them, the Shogunate, the rebels, the Emperor himself. I could have prevented this. I could have ended this madness so long ago. But no - I would be doing that which I have condemned from the start...

He could not do that. He would not become the man-slayer of thousands more to...

__

To save my deshi's soul? I would. I would do it.

Minutes passed, and Kenshin's screams, wrought of grief and undirected, (and undirectable, in Hiko's mind) anger,

became more and more pain-filled and choked as the moments went by. It was a haze to Hiko, he had never seen the boy cry like he was now.

__

Cry is not the correct word. Sobbing, more like it. I despise this bloody war.

Gradually, Kenshin stopped his screaming, his cries becoming softer and more like a whimper. Hiko felt like nothing so much as heading straight to Kyoto and destroying the Shogunate himself, to prevent this from ever happening.

But then, he had given up on his dreams long ago.

Moments went by, and Kenshin slowly regained his focus. Shaking his head slowly, he began to speak in a whisper so low that even Hiko had trouble hearing.

"My dreams are nothing, my sword is purposeless, and I have no idea what to do now.

I would have returned long ago, but for the people I would have left behind, and that I gave my word..."  
His eyes, having shifted from Hiko to the ground again, came back to Hiko. Hiko flinched again at the swollen, red-rimmed eyes the boy showed. _Such senselessness..._ "How goes your life, shishou?"

Hiko was silent. Kenshin's eyes lingered for a moment, then turned back to the sky, watching a bluebird bring

food to it's egg-warming mate. The sight brought a genuine smile to his lips, and Hiko watched him out of the corner

of his eye as he spoke.

"I knew that one side or the other would take advantage of you, in desire of your Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu. Even before you left, I knew that it would be less than a fortnight before you were discovered and recruited by some silk-tongued politician..." Hiko's eyes drifted to the grass now, and, folding his arms, he leaned against the log behind himself

and hung his head in quiet rememberance. "It had occured to me many times that the path of the hitokiri would be the one you would be recruited to. And why not? As a frontline fighter, you would reign supreme, unmatched by all who

deemed themselves your equal or superior - they would be as nothing before your soaring blade. You would become a legend amongst the people, a figurehead of great stature amongst the troops, a hero of the cause; yet this they chose not to do. Why?" Hiko tilted his head slightly and gazed at Kenshin expectantly.

With a ruthless lack of self-pity Hiko had grown to respect, Kenshin met his master's eyes and responded without so much as blinking.

"As a frontline fighter, I would have been indispensable for dealing with armed confrontations and leading raids.

I could defeat entire squadrons of enemy soldiers by myself in the amount of time it took one normal man to defeat a single opponent. I would have been so far above the others; I would be the legend of the people, the ultimate soldier.

And yet, I would be known - I stand out so much already..." Kenshin smiled grimly at this, and Hiko said nothing.

"I would be remarkably easy to trace and those around me would be jeopardized by my very presensce. But that is not the reason I was chosen to be a hitokiri, was it, shishou?" Kenshin stared at Hiko inquisitively.

Hiko merely shook his head.

"It is because, then," Kenshin resumed, "that my superior swordsmanship, while instilling fear and dread amongst the enemy as a fighter, would be doubled if I was unseen, unknown, unidentifiable, untraceable. The legendary hitokiri

that disappeared into the shadows and seemed to pass through walls and building, so fast and unreadable and strong.

They would think I was a demon, not a man." Kenshin averted his eyes and hung his own head in shame. "No one I have fought yet has been anywhere near as fast as me, and their techniques seem so slow and their movements choppy. By virtue of my superior sword technique, training, and senses, I can move without being seen and strike faster than the sound of my sword being drawn can be heard. Such would demoralize the enemy and make them fearful and more hesitant than to face me out in the open." Kenshin stopped for a moment, leaning against the log as well and folding his own arms. He gazed up at the sky, deep in thought. "My true purpose has not been to slay the men that were marked for death - to be sure, it was my duty, but my real purpose - my true mission - was to be an instrument of terror and a herald of Death, the unspoken fear of the Shogunate. I am, truly, a psychological weapon." Kenshin closed his eyes, and a single tear fell from his cheek.

"Katsura knew this. That's why he chose me. He knew all of this - and I was too blind... too stupid..."

Kenshin watched the skies again, and Hiko lapsed into silence again.

__

I'm taking the coward's way out of it all, speaking to a dream. But I can't do otherwise. I can't let the real him

ever know what I plan to do. Hiko watched his dream-pupil as he scoured the skies, looking for the answer he sought. _I don't know what to do other than speak my mind and ask forgiveness for failing him. But then,_

what does it mean, if not asked of the real boy himself?

"Kenshin."

The boy looked back at Hiko, almost desperately, searching for some way out, for a purpose to live...

"You cannot undo what you have done thus far." Hiko hated hearing those words come from his own throat,

yet he spoke them anyways. They were true to a fault. "What blood has been shed will not be restored. What you can do, deshi..."  
Hiko turned his head fully to face his deshi, and Kenshin looked at him with that look he had seen so often -

uncertain, hesitant, but determined; he had seen it every day for the past eight years, whether in waking hours or in his dreams, since his deshi had left...

"...what you can do is try to live differently henceforth." Hiko could _feel _the power of his thoughts behind his words, and he spoke with a passion that took the boy aback. "The path of the Hitokiri must end, whether or not the killing ends with it. The killing will indeed end eventually, but until that time, you must restrain your blade to do only the justice you know is true." Hiko narrowed his eyes, and spoke harder now. He had to get through to the boy... 

"Never again let those men tell you who is evil and must die. Make the truth the judge for your actions, then move on from there. And if it becomes too much, then you can return to the mountain. Together, we will put an end to the real evils, and we will pursue True Justice, not that which the rebellion claims."

Kenshin nodded in silence, Hiko nodded as well; his words had been well chosen and well spoken. He had not spoken with such fire for years now; his throat ached from the strength of his own voice. He felt that his deshi had gotten the point, that he had done his duty, but there was one thing more unsaid.

And it could not be left unsaid.

"Kenshin."  
The boy straightened at the return of his shishou's voice, and Hiko kept himself from grinning. It felt good to speak like this again. He liked having that effect on people.

"I forgive you."  
Kenshin started, eyes wide, and the two regarded each other for a while, master and student. The wind rustled in the trees, the grass fanned out in the gusts, but Kenshin remained completely immobile. Hiko was beginning to think he had said something amiss when the boy finally smiled and hung his head.

"Arigatou, shishou."

Hiko bowed his own head as well. "And I ask you to forgive me."  
Kenshin started again, his eyes even wider than before, and Hiko felt it was time for a little arrogance.

"What? Even I make mistakes, deshi. None too often, but it does happen, despite my apparent perfection in all that I do..." Hiko snorted and returned his eyes to the sky, hoping that the words would have the desired effect.

They did.

Kenshin broke out into a smile the likes of which Hiko had never seen in all his life. The boy's confidence and spirits had returned, and Hiko knew he would be all right now.

"Shshou?"  
Hiko glanced at his student from the corner of his eye.

"Would you mind sparring with me?"  
It was Hiko's turn to start, but it did not last long.

Together, they nodded, stood up, and started across the field.

One final sparring match.

To Hiko, it was the best gift he had ever recieved.

"So, deshi, all this time and you still seek to discover the limits of the human mind against pain."

Kenshin just smiled.  
"All talk, shishou. I'm a lot better now."  
Hiko grinned for his part.

"I never stopped being better."

Kenshin returned the decidedly Hiko-ish grin with a flair that told any who saw it exactly who had raised him.

Lowering his head, his bangs again shrouded his eyes from view.

"All I will say..."  
Hiko quirked a brow.

"All you will say...?"  
Kenshin's head tilted slightly, and the shining amethyst eyes revealed the heiritage of the Hiten Mitsurugi clearly.

"You'd better bring it, de gozaru yo."

His eyes slowly opened; dark as the void between stars, they told the story of a life full of disappointment and sorrow, of shattered dreams and fruitless endeavors. His heart shone behind his eyes, a dispirited heart, pained and angry, but they glinted with a strange happiness, or rather, contentedness, that set itself decidedly apart from the other emotions inside the man's heart.

He stared out into the stars, watching them shimmer in the night sky, a very different sky than the one he had just

been under.

His eyes widened for a moment, confused and displaced, until it came back to him.

The tale of the past few hours was told in the pre-dawn light - he had come back to reality.

Back to the hopeless fate he had resigned himself too.

All those words, all those feelings, everything that had been said and done...

A dream.

Seijuro Hiko closed his eyes, and a single tear flowed down his right cheek.

"Damn."

A broken whisper in the morning, a silent cry of despair.

Destiny had returned Hiko from his sleep, from his wished-for dreams, back into his living nightmare.

Back to Hell itself.

And there would be no joy in the ending.

__

His eyes slowly opened, revealing their startling, crystalline amethyst color. Wide and expressive, the eyes

told the story of his soul in detail and in earnest, more effectively than any words could ever do.

The eyes spoke of a once-immeasurable fury and dark, endless sorrow, emotions so deep and pervading

that the soul of the man the eyes spoke of had teetered upon the edge of self-sentenced damnation,

a dark, empty void created for him by his own violence, misguided actions, and shattered dreams. 

But the fury was a thing of the past, and the sorrow, while still existant, had been largely replaced by two other

emotions that the man had never before experienced.

Hope. A shining ray of hope, a returned belief in a better way, a better world, a more sensible and peaceable place

where all people lived free and happy. He had lost it not so long after his first kill, indeed, perhaps only a few

weeks following it. The memory of the first kill was as fresh as that of his last; the bright red blood, the look of horror in the eyes of his victim, the sickness that welled up from inside his heart and nearly rent him asunder. 

All the time hence had been spent slipping further and further into a treacherous despair,

as he battled for his soul's very survival amidst a mad and senseless war.

Senseless in the thought that it had come to all of this.

The darkness had enveloped him, wrenching the very life from his heart, and had twisted him in a fell way,

so that he had been reduced to that which all had said he was since he had taken up the hitokiri's sword.

A man-slayer.

He knew nothing save the battlefield, the clash of swords, the blood of men. Insanity was all he could remember,

his purpose and drive forgotten; destruction and violence reigned supreme, and the cold, unfeeling mindset that

he was locked in - every moment outside battle was a haze, a series of disconnected images and sounds, the concern

and kind words of a few true friends all but forgotten and brushed aside, the fearful whispers and glances of his comrades, and the uncertain, nameless fears of the people he had desired to protect; all he had wanted was to help, 

to _end_ the madness, and this was the end result. 

All this buried and nearly gone now. Thank God for every mercy ever shown to him, despite all the crimes he had committed in a scant year.

And the other emotion, the one that preoccupied his mind at every waking moment, and even more so in his dreams.

Love.

He could not remember ever feeling love - his parents had died so long ago. And while his master had taken him in,

a seven-year-old boy who could not read, write, or fight, with no marketable skills, with nothing to offer,

(in the boy's mind), and given him a home, skills, and the ability to act on his emotions, regarding him somewhat as a son, somewhat as a younger brother, the man did not think the term 'love' could be associated to such an

arrogant, egocentric swordsman, in a familial sense. A grudging, friendly respect, perhaps. The man chuckled lightly.

Indeed, if his shishou ever caught wind of that particular train of thought, he'd never, EVER hear the end of the the bigger man's incessant laughter.

No, this love was something divine, something so pure and potent that it was beyond the man's ability to describe,

even in the realm of his own mind, beyond anything he had ever felt.

Like the dawn of a new morning, as the sun rose over the mountains of Kyoto, a new life had come to him,

and the darkened, bloodstained moon of the night had set.

His past threatened to return, but it would not be the same. It could not be - he had been changed so.  
Born out of anger, blossoming into pity, blooming into friendship, maturing into love.

How perfectly wonderful.

As he lay on the futon beneath him, the object of this new emotion walked through the open shoji,

a suprised, awed expression over her lovely face.

"Kenshin?"

The Hitokiri Battousai, the most feared warrior in all of Japan, the man who could kill thirty master swordsmen

in one minute flat, lifted his eyes to the love of his life and gazed at her adoringly. She blushed under his

serene gaze, a shy smile creeping across her face.

__

She is so beautiful when she smiles...

"Kenshin? Was that you laughing, Kenshin?" she asked quietly, still smiling.

Kenshin's wide smile grew even wider, and he leapt up and hugged his wife, whose smile widened as well;

her young husband was usually less expressive than this, but that did not mean she disliked his sudden

forwardness. She hugged him back.

Kenshin whispered in he ear, "I had the most wonderful dream, koishii."

Tomoe gave a little gasp, hearing him speak so softly, so gently.

So different from the cold hitokiri she had met that night.

So different.

So happy.

A single tear rolled down her right cheek; she felt all the repressed emotion in her heart surfacing,

screaming to be released, to remain with him forever and forget all those things she had ever thought of

doing to him, to forget it all and stay here with him until the end of days.

She wanted to tell him of her original plans, but could not bring herself to destroy the pure, innocent trust

he placed in her now.

She could not.

She hugged him more tightly, crying into his gi, his arms wrapped around her protectively, and she knew

that she would have to tell him eventually, but for now...

Let him have this peace.

And let her have hers.

They continued to embrace, their hearts knowing only the other's presence, the other's warmth, and the love

that they shared, and they stayed that way for a long, long time.

END CHAPTER FIVE

*sniff* It's beautiful. *sniffle* Simply beautiful...

Good ol' Kenshin. We all know the guy deserves to be happy; he's fought too hard and sacrificed

to much to deserve the fate laid out for him in the final OAV. Darn those conglomerates, darn

those script writers, and darn me for darning them. But I really don't like that ending.

Anyways...

I have to say, I think this is my best chappy yet. ^_^ I enjoyed writing it to an extent that only 

authors and authoresses could understand. There is just something about getting an idea down on paper

(or a WP) that is just so... so... **_kewl_**.

I love the ending, it came to me right about the point where Hiko recognized Kenshin's ki.

So I skipped the middle and wrote the ending first. o_O I knew exactly where I wanted to go,

just had to get there, de gozaru yo.

^_^ No replies yet on the mini-comics. I don't know whether or not they're even humorous.

Input, please. Need. More. INPUT!

After all, comedy may not be my thing...

And as for reaching Kyoto...

Ah, no more predictions on next chapters. I seem to be bad at fulfilling those, that I do. 

Nobody yell, please.. _ I really tried - this suddenly popped up, and I HAD to squeeze it in before

things began to come to a point. It would be out of place elsewhere...

Anyhow, read and respond please! I simply _live _for reviews...

The final line is always the same. After all, who am I to break tradition?

Thanks for reading! ^_^


	6. 06 Ashes and Cinders

::: Disclaimer :::  
  
Sessha does not own Rurouni Kenshin, that he most certainly does not. :)  
  
  
  
Justice - There is no personal problem that cannot be solved through suitable   
  
application of high explosives. That is a fact of life.  
  
Katsu - I agree 100 %. ^_^  
  
Sano - ~_~ Don't get Katsu started with the bombs again... Sheesh.  
  
Katsu - Grrrr.... Sano, lay off the bombs already! I told you I quit with that!  
  
Sano - Then why do you still have catalogs of timers and wire and   
  
various explosive compounds...?  
  
Katsu - Er... Recreational reading?  
  
Sano - o.O;;  
  
Kenshin - Keep bombs away from me. I had a bad experience with those, that I did.  
  
Tomoe - Yes, terrible.  
  
Kenshin - O_O Tomoe! How did you get here?! You look so...pale...  
  
Tomoe - Well, now, I wonder why THAT would be so... *looks meaningfully at Kenshin*  
  
Kenshin - *fascinated with a small pebble*  
  
Sano - O_O AAAAHHH! DEAD WOMAN!!!  
  
Tomoe - I am not dead, I'm just...  
  
Katsu - Cold?  
  
Justice - Goth?  
  
Tomoe - ...alright, I'm dead.  
  
Sano + Katsu - DEMONESS!!! *run into streets*  
  
Tomoe - :P Men believe anything nowadays.  
  
Justice - o.O;; *searches for egg roll to console himself*  
  
   
  
   
  
: REVIEW THANKS :  
  
kenshin_admirer : ^___^ The dream sequence was fun to write, and I am very glad you   
  
enjoyed it. The rest is work-in-progress and therefore secret. o_O Thanks for the   
  
compliments, and please, when you have time, update your fic! I wanna see Hiko bash   
  
Shishio around... o.O  
  
ayumi ikari - Thanks, miss! ^___^ It seems my dream-sequence went over pretty well,   
  
and I'm glad you enjoyed it!  
  
maria cline - Zowie! That dream-sequence went over better than I had hoped! ^_^ ^_^ ^_^  
  
No, it's not the end of the fic; I hope there'll be many more to come! And I will keep it up!  
  
Arigatou gozaimasu!  
  
Lucrecia LeVrai - O_O Everybody loves the dream sequence! ( ^_^ times 10) Thanks a lot,   
  
Ms. LeVrai! I've been trying to work on the spacing, but I dunno if it'll be successful... @_@  
  
the sacred night - Fluff? What's that mean? o.O I figured that Hiko would be a bit more relaxed  
  
in the dream than in real life, as would Kenshin, and the dark-but-uplifting is exactly where I   
  
was trying to go with it. Enishi would still be a child in this fic, but now that I've said something,  
  
I feel the effect would be ruined. ~_~ I shoulda just kept quiet... Ah, oh well. I'll go for an Enishi  
  
fic eventually, so that will be that. ^_^ Thanks for reviewing, and good luck with the poetry! ^_^  
  
MoTaS - O_O You're on Chappy ten now... I'll review 'em right away; been gone so long that  
  
I've not read RK fics for a while. This will be rectified. ^_^ Thanks for the review!  
  
Hitokiri-san - Domo arigatou gozaimasu! And... point taken. Hate Seisouhen. As do I.  
  
This will not end like Seisouhen. o.o Thanks for the review!  
  
Thanks, everyone, for reviewing!!! ^_^  
  
   
  
   
  
Author's Notes - As mentioned by Miss Levrai, I've been trying to find a way to fix  
  
the darn spacing between lines. Trust me, it never looked like that on my WP.   
  
And everyone else's writing looks so neat... @_@ What am I doing wrong?! OROOOO!!!  
  
I tried making the lines a bit shorter, but that didn't really work, de gozaru yo...  
  
I think it's the matter of FF.net's display - the little bars around the side crowd the text   
  
a tad, and I guess it messes the whole thing up. ^-^ I'm so smart. Or not.  
  
I'll get back to you on that one.  
  
Anyhow, Chappy 6 here, and I hope you enjoy. It's been a while since the last  
  
post, but I've had work, school, spacing errors, and a bit of confusion as to  
  
how I should go next in the story. So many things to choose from... @_@ ORO!!!  
  
BTW, I just read Unseen Watcher's 'Ties of Loyalty' again. @_@ I wanna write that good!  
  
Grrrr... better get crackin'. If you haven't read it, go and do so, for your own sakes.  
  
Further, I'm making a small change; switching to Notepad instead of Microsoft  
  
Works WP... this means a small change in the typist's legend.  
  
" Oro! " indicates speech.  
  
' Oro! ' indicates thoughts.  
  
~~~ Oro! ~~~ indicates dream-sequence or time-lapse.  
  
Further updates as events warrant, de gozaru yo.  
  
The Sword of Seijuro Hiko  
  
Chapter 06 - Ashes and Cinders  
  
----- ----- -----  
  
ORO  
  
----- ----- -----  
  
Sitting in a corner of the small, darkly lit tavern, there was a small group of men who were  
  
clearly not the friendliest of personas. Their eyes were small and intense, and they darted from  
  
side to side frequently, the eyes of men who lived their lives completely on-guard at all times,  
  
even in slumber, no rest whatsoever from the paranoia they had instilled in themselves and   
  
the deeper, more silent terror had come to grip them over the years.  
  
They spoke in hushed, hurried, grating voices that could barely be heard by normal men amidst  
  
the general din of the oft-frequented tavern. An occasional hiss or snarl could be made out in   
  
between hoots of laughter and yells of drunken anger, which, for some reason, was catching   
  
the attention of some drably-clothed men in the other corner of the room. Unknown to those   
  
being watched, the group doing the watching was sliding closer and closer, all the while putting   
  
up an admirable act of being utterly drunk and all but harmless.  
  
All this Hiko noticed without so much as turning his back.   
  
Except the eyes. He had seen the eyes when he had first arrived. They had bothered him on a   
  
subconscious level, but he had brushed away his instincts and ordered them to shut down   
  
to some extent for a while.  
  
He wanted to think a bit.  
  
Staring darkly into the translucent glass full of rice wine, Hiko watched in detached interest  
  
as the liquid rocked back and forth gently in it's container while he gently swayed it from side   
  
to side. Not that he was drunk. He never drank that much. Seijuro Hiko never got drunk.   
  
That would mean being off guard, and Seijuro Hiko was never off guard. Never.   
  
He had, however, had less than he would have liked, and probably more than he should have.  
  
Three glasses so far. No more to go. Or maybe three more to go.  
  
Whichever way he felt like at the moment.  
  
It was a good night to get torched.  
  
This hellish city was torched, too.  
  
And he might as well drink to that.  
  
Throwing his head back, he drained the glass in one gulp, then placed it back down  
  
on the table (rather roughly) and poured another. He drank that as well,   
  
then refilled his glass again.  
  
He did not drink the third.  
  
He had seen many villages burned in his time; truth be told, he'd seen one just about two   
  
weeks ago that had ended up dragging him into a rather fruitful side quest that had served   
  
to further deter and disturb his already troubled mind, but in all his days, he had never seen   
  
destruction like that which had greeted him as he topped the mountains and gazed on Kyoto   
  
for the first time in about ten years.  
  
Letting out a deep sigh, he threw the full glass aside and instead drained the jug.  
  
It was turning out to be a bad night.  
  
Twenty-eight thousand houses burned, not counting barns, businesses, and other buildings.  
  
Thousands dead, thousands more wounded, and, worst of all, the 'patriots' had been behind it.  
  
Curse that fool child for dragging him into this senselessness.  
  
What manner of savagery led a man to burn a city full of innocents to get his way, Hiko would   
  
never know, nor did he ever hope to. It was something that his mind simply could not comprehend,   
  
something that defied all understanding. To claim to fight for the people, for a new era, and to go   
  
about it in such a way; he shut his eyes tightly as he the death toll came back to his mind.  
  
Too high. Far too high.  
  
The sounds of the celebration continued, growing louder and less coherent as time went on.  
  
His eyes narrowed violently as their drunken laughter echoed throughout the establishment,  
  
accompanied by other sounds of obvious revelry. A few curses and insults rang out amidst the  
  
chortling and chuckling and sloshing of drinks.  
  
Without opening his eyes, Hiko flipped his right arm backwards, shifting his hand up and back-fisting  
  
a rather wobbly patron immediately behind himself with a mere flick of his arm and wrist.  
  
Rule # 1 - Never approach Seijuro Hiko unannounced.  
  
It was a fast way to get damaged.  
  
Especially when Hiko was in a bad mood.  
  
The now-unconscious man crumpled to the floor, and the partiers immediately around himself backed   
  
off a good six feet.  
  
Hiko glanced over his shoulder at the nervous men and women, and flashed them a classical Hiko grin  
  
that held absolutely no heart behind it. Turning his head, he quietly stared at the wood grain of the table  
  
he sat at, and the partiers, exchanging fearful glances amongst themselves,   
  
wisely decided to leave him alone.  
  
Hiko closed his eyes and tried to shut out the noise for a moment.  
  
He knew Kenshin was somehow connected to the fire - he had simply felt that Kenshin had been  
  
there when the fires were set, but he knew not whether the boy had been setting fires or putting  
  
them out.  
  
He did not believe that his deshi was so far gone that he would do such a thing, even on the orders  
  
of one of those blasted rebel leaders. Kenshin was, in many ways, a complete baka, but he was  
  
a good-hearted baka, and he'd cut down any man who told him to do such a thing.  
  
Even if his soul was dying.  
  
Or would he?  
  
Either way, he was bringing down more destruction on Japan than even Hiko had ventured to guess.  
  
Such actions he had ruled too rash for even those seeking to overthrow the Tokugawa regime.  
  
In the name of justice and equality, they were slaying their own people and burning their own cities  
  
in an attempt to gain an edge in their little war. Women, children, it mattered not, the cause was at stake,  
  
and what had to be done, had to be done. It was for the future of Japan, and sacrifices had to be made.  
  
Damn them and their hypocritical nonsense.  
  
In their newfound weapon of death and terror, the Battousai, their confidence had skyrocketed  
  
and if they had been mad before, they'd gone insane now.  
  
All around him, the yelling and celebrating continued, the partiers either too drunk to know what had  
  
happened, or simply uncaring. Neither sounded honorable to Hiko, who surveyed the room without  
  
even looking at it. Wildly fluxing life forces, a nigh-unreadable mass of unrestrained debauchery.  
  
Their city burned, their people slain, yet they celebrate like it's a holiday or something.  
  
'What kind of fools are fighting this war, anyhow?! Of all the idiotic...'  
  
His eyes flashed violently, burning with the righteous fury so characteristic of Hiten masters,  
  
his hands clenched into fists so tight that they drew blood from his own hand.   
  
These past two weeks, he had found himself having a problem much like his deshi's; he'd tried   
  
to ignore it as best he could, but with everything he'd been seeing and hearing these past few days,  
  
it was becoming obvious that he was failing.  
  
It was partly due to the events around himself, and partly due to his own resistance to becoming  
  
calloused towards such things.  
  
He was losing his mind.  
  
In his waking hours, he strode in a near trance, using every bit of training and will he possessed to   
  
keep from simply snapping. It was like a nightmare that refused to end, so dark and hopeless  
  
his future looked, yet at least, in the pale light of the sun, his soul found some respite.   
  
Night was infinetely worse; sleep was impossible. His wounded mind was haunted by phantomlike   
  
images of a red-haired shadow assassin, bathed in blood and wearing the visage of Death itself.  
  
The assassin's bloodstained blade would flip upwards, sending a shower of blood into the sky.  
  
As Hiko watched, the assassin brought the blade up to meet just in front of his nose, and   
  
his eyes locked with Hiko's, sending a chill down the older man's spine...  
  
Hiko's eyes snapped open, and he jumped slightly at the sudden hedonistic howls that erupted  
  
from the crowd inside the tavern. Growling at the disturbance, Hiko eyed the crowd with a mixture  
  
of distaste and animosity.  
  
One didn't need much intuition to know what was going on. He had been to more than one  
  
bar in his life, although he had never lowered himself to this kind of degree on any occasion.  
  
'So, not only are they uncaring swine, they're dishonorable uncaring swine.'  
  
A drunken geisha passed by on his right, giggling to herself and smirking suggestively.  
  
Upon spotting Hiko, the woman's eyes widened in shock, and she eyed him in a way  
  
that felt, most especially at the moment, extremely inappropriate. The woman's smirk widened  
  
as Hiko's scowl deepened. Mistaking the venomous look she recieved from the man as  
  
one of lustful consideration, she stepped a little closer and asked, in an annoyingly high tone,  
  
if the service of the establishment was up to his standards.  
  
Hiko's only response was a cold shoulder and a 'feh'.  
  
Insulted, the geisha lingered a moment, then stalked off into the crowd, leaving Hiko to stew again.  
  
"If only all problems were so easily vanquished," Hiko muttered to himself.  
  
Free of the annoying geisha, he was about to close his eyes again when he felt the approach of a  
  
most unwelcome ki.  
  
Hiko's eyebrow twitched.  
  
A moment later, the geisha was again at his table, only this time, she'd brought three friends.  
  
Hiko's eyebrow twitched again.  
  
The four geisha knelt at the table with him, discounting his death glare wholly, all four of them  
  
wearing that drunken smirk and toying with their obi. Eyebrows rose in appreciation of Hiko's  
  
face and long, dark hair, even more so of the powerful, muscular arm that that still held the drained  
  
sake jug, until painted jaws dropped at the sight of his powerfully developed chest.  
  
Hiko desperately resisted the urge to twitch his eyebrow once more.  
  
The four of them began to chat amongst themselves, ranging in subjects from the sake to the floor to   
  
Hiko's hair to... just about anything under the sun. All the while, the four continually watched Hiko's every   
  
movement, a twitch of the eye, a flick of a finger, batting their eyes and blushing prettily as best they could.  
  
Or what passed for it.  
  
Hiko didn't like such skin tones, for his part. And he, for one, was intrigued that any blush could be seen   
  
underneath all that white paint.  
  
This went on for a while, the women yapping away over the crowd's noise, saying some fairly  
  
shocking things, even to Hiko, who had heard much in life, and Hiko did his best to ignore them,  
  
although he couldn't keep the slight blush from his own cheeks at some of the things these women said.  
  
'I'm in my thirties now, and here I am, being shocked by a group of hedonistic geisha. I've been on that  
  
blasted mountain too darn long... or perhaps not enough.'  
  
The talk went on, the women slowly undoing their obi, and Hiko maintained his rather desperate   
  
(and useless) attempt at mental isolation. Unbeknownst to him, he had developed from an occasional   
  
eye twitch to a chronic eye twitch when the women said or did something in particular that displeased   
  
him, but this was taken by the women as a breaking of will, so the teasing and chatting went on, until it   
  
all threatened to culminate in something Hiko had no intentions of participating in.  
  
His eyes met those of the first geisha, who was just about ready to remove her kimono,  
  
smirking lustfully as she gave him a subtle invitation.  
  
What followed was a blunt and rather rude 'no'.  
  
The four geisha scattered in panic as Hiko shattered the table they'd been sitting at,  
  
roaring for all he was worth, and daring any one of them to approach him ever again  
  
for the rest of their natural lives.  
  
Rule # 2 - Don't tick off the strongest man in all of Japan. Especially when he's already ticked.  
  
The crowd had chosen that moment to scream particularly loud, so his maddened roars  
  
went, for the most part, unheard.  
  
Hiko's head turned, and he eyed the mass of humanity behind himself, screaming and dancing  
  
and generally causing an uproar. The women danced, the men watched, and the barkeep  
  
passed out jugs of sake as fast as he could, reeling in the coins of the patrons all the while.  
  
General fun was had by all.  
  
Hiko's blood was hot as he surveyed the lust-driven crowd of pleasure-seeking fools,  
  
the pumping of his heart thunderous in his ears. His eyes darted to and fro,  
  
watching the baseness of the crowd grow by the second, and as he did, his blood ran that  
  
much more hotly.  
  
' Fools! Blasted idiots! They watch their town burn and their people die and they  
  
celebrate anyways! They are not deserving of their pathetic excuses for lives. '  
  
His right hand twitched uncontrollably; he wanted nothing at the moment so much as  
  
to silence the lot of them. They were lower than animals, with no heart for others and no mind  
  
for anything but their pleasure. He turned away from the revelry, unable to watch aynmore,  
  
and his eyes found their way to the table he'd destroyed.   
  
Furious, he thought of his deshi and his idealistic mind in this mess of humanity.  
  
How would the boy have reacted to such things as these? How would he have reacted  
  
to those wily geisha from before?  
  
Likely, he would have found a quick exit, as he had been before.  
  
Of late, he'd most likely kill them.  
  
That seemed a good idea at the moment.   
  
His eyes burned as he gripped his nihontou within his cloak, and he considered drawing it,  
  
for the purpose of rending a few revelers asunder.  
  
That would put a quick end to this little party. A very quick end. Most likely, it would end with the  
  
Shogunate police coming after him, but that mattered little anyways.  
  
Of course, rash action was not his specialty, but that of the Ishin Shishi, evidently. Yet he felt   
  
rash at the moment. He'd long since grown weary of wandering around and thinking.  
  
He wanted action.  
  
Ironically, he got it.  
  
A sudden shift of ken-ki caught his attention, and his eyes widened for a moment before he managed  
  
to curtail his surprise.  
  
' Drank too much... wonderful. '  
  
Shaking his head slightly, he focused his senses on the growing commotion behind himself.  
  
The watchers had descended on their prey, and were currently hustling them out the back door  
  
of the inn, going, for the most part, unnoticed by anyone in the establishment. Those being hustled  
  
put up no apparent resistance, yet their spirits were tense and they seemed to be readying themselves  
  
for a fight. Which was fine by Hiko. A fight sounded quite appealing.  
  
More quickly than any of the partying fools present could see, (even if they weren't drunk)  
  
he leapt into a small recess in the southern corner of the room and sunk low around the wall.  
  
Lacking a little of his usual grace, though.  
  
He narrowed his eyes a bit as he wobbled ever so slightly upon re-entry.  
  
' I *really* drank too much. '  
  
Squinting his eyes, he felt amongst the group for the ken-ki that had caught his attention in the first  
  
place, and found it quickly. Startled, he reeled slightly, and was thankful for the wall he was  
  
crouched against.   
  
The last thing he'd ever expected to find in this city was a truly powerful swordsman, given  
  
all the fools that seemed to exist here. The only real swordsman he thought to live in this  
  
den of evil was his former pupil, and yet here he had found one besides his deshi.  
  
  
  
A powerful, discerning spirit, one that was at once confident, furious, confused, and sorrowful.   
  
An interestingly diverse palette of feelings that spiked for a moment and subsided just as quickly.   
  
Emotions aside, it was shockingly strong and tense, and sent the general signal to those  
  
adept at reading ki that he was not one to be trifled with.  
  
It was more potent that his deshi's, less powerful than his own, but somewhere between his and   
  
that of his long-dead shishou. A magnificent fighting spirit, of a caliber that Hiko had not  
  
found since the death of the previous Seijuro Hiko, so long ago. It was, if Hiko's memory could be   
  
trusted, stronger than that of the twelfth Hiten master.  
  
That, in itself, was the second most unbelievable thing Hiko had ever learned.  
  
His curiosity piqued, he slowly stood up from the table, carefully masking his ki, and headed  
  
for the front exit.  
  
After all, no sense directly following them. Not all warriors in this age were   
  
weak and stupid, apparently. It was something to remember.  
  
  
  
A man was thrown rather rudely against a convenient wall; said wall collapsed in on itself,   
  
a testament to the impressive physical strength the thrower possessed, and perhaps to the   
  
durability of the man tossed into (and through) the wall, although judging by the victim's newfound   
  
lack of motor control, it was to be doubted.  
  
Said thrower then strode over to the bewildered and damaged man, now sprawled amidst the   
  
wooden wreckage and broken shingles, and picked him up effortlessly. Something was said   
  
between them; it lasted only a few moments, then the captive was introduced to a new wall.   
  
This went on for some time.  
  
Hiko narrowed his eyes in quiet consideration. Stepping a little closer, he tried to get a better   
  
look at the warring parties.  
  
The captor, a tall man shrouded in a hooded cloak, quietly closed in on the position of the   
  
now-quite-embittered prisoner,a rather stocky middle-aged man dressed in a tattered brown  
  
gi with matching dusty grey hakama. The captive threw his adversary a baleful glare, picking   
  
himself up out of the rubble left by his re-entry from a quick and entirely unwilling flight. Hiko   
  
listened carefully to the words that passed between the men. Fortunately, they were now a   
  
fair distance away from the tavern, and Hiko had no problems hearing anything on these streets.  
  
Even though he WAS a little stoned.  
  
"Shogunate dog," snarled the captive, struggling to stand upright despite his injuries.  
  
The tall man stopped within punching distance of his quarry and said nothing for a time, but   
  
watched the captive almost desperately try to maintain his upright stance. Nothing could be   
  
heard for a time except for the ragged breathing of the prisoner and the occasional shuffle  
  
of his feet.  
  
The captor's ki seemed to smirk. " I'm not the one panting, baka. " Reaching out, the captor  
  
took hold of his prisoner's throat and lifted him off the ground effortlessly. " Your little party has  
  
ended this night, and your remaining men will be disposed of shortly." The cloaked man  
  
seemed to smirk again, hoisting his quarry higher off the ground and tightening his grasp on said  
  
quarry's throat. "It's only a matter of time before your entire infrastructure goes under, and then  
  
we will bring you all down like so many dead leaves under a strong wind. You've nothing left to fight  
  
with, so be a good dog and run back to your master, ne?" he mocked, dropping the man to the ground.  
  
The captive yelped as he struck the ground, rolling to one side in an attempt to escape further damage  
  
from the man before him. The captor grunted in derision.  
  
"Shinsei Seifuku, indeed."  
  
Hiko quirked a brow. This could be interesting...  
  
The captive rolled to his feet, glaring at his captor defiantly. "We *will* bring you down, dog! You   
  
cannot escape the wrath of the Divine Conquerors! You will die for defiling the land of the gods   
  
with your soiled hands!" he spat angrily.  
  
The captor chuckled quietly, his shoulders shaking slightly in his amusement. The captive's scowl   
  
deepened as his captor shook his head in derision.  
  
"Soiled hands, is it?" he queried, humoring his captive. "An interesting phrase to hear from the likes  
  
of you, 'conqueror'." he turned to face his captive, who happened to have rolled in just the right way,  
  
so that the captor was looking in Hiko's direction. " You're the one rolling on the ground."  
  
Hiko kept himself from any manner of movement, although he had begun to sweat a little.  
  
There was no perception of a mortal threat from this man at the moment, but Hiko wanted to  
  
hear more of this matter, and it was slightly unnerving to have the person you were spying on  
  
looking directly at you.  
  
Hiko stood underneath a street vendor's makeshift sunroof, twenty feet off from the captive and captor.  
  
It had been a little difficult to slip into this spot whilst going unnoticed, but even drunk, Hiko had   
  
somehow managed it. Now his only problem was to remain unnoticed...  
  
The captor took a step forward, about to speak again, when a sharp *crack* sounded directly in   
  
front of him. The captive jumped, and the captor slid into a kenpo stance so fast that his movement  
  
would have been untraceable by normal men.  
  
Hiko willed himself not to move in the slightest. He had not stepped on anything, and had been too   
  
focused on the scene before him to even know what had sounded. He shut his eyes half-way and   
  
tenatively sensed around himself, looking for the source of...  
  
Oh.  
  
Hiko scowled. What irony. What fortitude.  
  
The captor relaxed a bit as well, seeing a small kitten emerge from the shadows with a bit of fish   
  
in it's mouth. It looked up at the cloaked man, at the ragged captive, then began to saunter  
  
away as only cats could. The tall man chuckled again. Hiko would have as well, if he wasn't  
  
so furious with the cat in the first place.  
  
The kitten continued down the road, oblivious and uncaring of the two men behind it.   
  
The wind chose that moment to pick up, however, in the direction of the kitten's path.   
  
The hood of the cloaked man blew slightly, but did not fall. It was disappointing to Hiko,  
  
who had hoped to get a glimpse of the captor, but that, however, was not the real problem.  
  
The problem was that the kitten sniffed the air, and turned to look at the shadows from whence  
  
he had come; conveniently , Hiko was still there.  
  
His eyebrow twitched yet again. ' Did Kenshin have this much trouble when he arrived...? '  
  
The captor's attention was once more diverted towards Hiko, who was busily cursing every cat  
  
in existence as coarsely as he could in his mind. Considering he was drunk, he could think of   
  
some good terms to use at the moment...  
  
As fate would have it, another sharp *crack* rang out, and the captor stiffened noticeably,  
  
training his unseen eyes on the vendor's tent, and, unbeknownst to him, on Hiko.  
  
The oft-coined phrase, ' I. Hate. Cats, ' repeated in Hiko's mind endlessly.  
  
The silence was tense, Hiko struggling along to survive without breathing much,  
  
while his potential attacker merely watched and waited. Another *crack* made it  
  
that much harder for Hiko to not hate the cat, the object cracking, and just about everything  
  
else in existence.  
  
Having not moved an inch since the noises began, the captive suddenly made a break for it,  
  
lurching to his feet and taking off in the kitten's direction as fast as he could...  
  
...and promptly falling right back where he was.  
  
The captor returned his outswept right leg to it's previous position, as the captive loosed  
  
a string of curses that would make a certain rooster red with embarrassment. The cloaked  
  
man responded simply by kicking his prey in the side; except for a sudden grunt,  
  
that pretty well shut the man up. The captor never turned his head from Hiko's direction.  
  
The silence continued.  
  
Hiko was quite well fed up with the situation, and was about to take a bit of action  
  
and show himself when fate intervened again.  
  
Three more kittens sauntered out of the shadows, each carring their own fish,  
  
and scampered down the dusty street to catch the first one. The four ran off  
  
into the dark streets, their slim, fuzzy tails whisking from side to side.  
  
It was then that a steady stream of kittens began to flow from the darkness around Hiko,  
  
carrying fish and chicken and bread and just about every foodstuff imaginable in their  
  
small mouths, tripping and bumping into one another endlessly, and all scurried away in the  
  
direction of the first four. The cloaked man bit back a roar of laughter as the kittens poured  
  
out by the veritable dozen, scampering into the quiet night.  
  
Hiko now felt he was rather safe from further suspicion, if only they'd stop running over his  
  
feet and landing on his head and...  
  
Hiko thanked whatever divine power had watched over him all those years in Hiten training as a  
  
rather curious kitten ( A/N - Do they come any other way? o.O;; ) discovered a fascination with Hiko's  
  
long ponytail. Clambering up his back, his claws hitched into the silky fabric as the kitten made it's  
  
way up Hiko's cloak, pausing now and then to bat at his hair. It was extremely annoying  
  
to have that fuzzball climbing him like some kind of tree. About this point, he wanted  
  
to scream in annoyance, but due to his training, he could settle for less.  
  
His eye twitched.  
  
The captor stared down at his prey in quiet consideration, then kicked him again. The downed man  
  
grunted, glaring up at the smirking man in the cloak.  
  
" Get up. "  
  
The captive did not respond, but merely spat at his captor. The cloaked man did not move for a moment,  
  
the wind rustling through the dark streets, blowing against the hood of the cloak, but still the hood did not  
  
fall. The captor bent down and grabbed his captive by the throat again, setting him back on his feet  
  
abruptly. The captive, still dazed, tried his best to maintain his footing, backing off about three  
  
feet in Hiko's direction.  
  
Hiko watched intently, trying desperately to ignore the kitten that had now made it's way on top of his  
  
head, and was busily kneading his skull as if it were a pillow. Much to his alarm, he found that  
  
it was indeed bedding down, and it began to eat it's fish in comfort on top of Hiko's distressed hair.  
  
The eye twitch was definitely chronic now...  
  
"You Shogunate dogs are all alike," muttered the captive, rubbing his side in an attempt to rid  
  
himself of the ache left by the cloaked man's kick. "You'd lead this nation straight to Hell  
  
in your foolish notions and idiocy. And your tactics are no better." he added, glancing  
  
down the street in what seemed to be resignation.  
  
"Feh," the tall man snapped, taking a step towards his prisoner. "Our tactics? We weren't  
  
the ones who decided to raid villages to acquire our supplies. Your leadership would  
  
kill Japan more surely than if every single person in the land contracted tuberculosis."  
  
"Likely to happen with you fools in charge," the captain muttered under his breath.  
  
"As if you 'conquerors' are any better," the captor growled, folding his arms across his chest.  
  
"You know very well that you only add to the instability of this nation and intensify the  
  
conflict with your actions. Not one of you cares in the slightest for the people; you're only  
  
after power," he added vehemently, and his voice dropped frighteningly low as he said,  
  
"and you don't care who gets in the way or even if they don't. Never has such violence  
  
been seen in this nation, no, not in this era or even the Warring States era. Not even  
  
*I* have ever seen such heartlessness, and I have seen much of human wickedness."  
  
"It was for the children of Japan," he rasped. "For their futures. For the future of this  
  
nation! For all our futures!" His eyes glazed over, like the eyes of a man who'd heard  
  
the same speech himself over and over. "The land of the gods will shine forth again!  
  
We will take back our homelands and oust the Shogunate, the Emperor, and all  
  
the foreign dogs from our presence forever! We shall all " he puncuated the end of his brief speech  
  
shaking a fist in his captor's face.  
  
The captor's eyes glinted for the slightest moment, hidden from view within his cloak's hood.  
  
The captive was taken aback at the sight, but Hiko remained still. It didn't suprise him that  
  
this man would have a powerful gaze - ki was most easily seen in the eyes, and this man  
  
had a staggering ki.  
  
Quietly, the cloaked man's left hand went for his pocket, and he withdrew a small, bloodstained   
  
piece of parchment from the recesses of his cloak. A flick of his finger, and the parchment unfolded   
  
to reveal a mess of dried blood and smudged ink. Hiko's eyes narrowed as he tried to determine   
  
what the significance of the paper was.  
  
Straining his eyes, he looked as closely as his enhanced senses would allow, and   
  
studied the parchment intensely.  
  
' A letter? No, the pattern's too smudgy. A map? No... what then? '  
  
The tall man spoke quietly. "You say it was for the future of Japan's children."  
  
The captive stood his ground proudly and looked at his captor defiantly, saying not a word.  
  
"And you maintain you were justified in attacking that village," he continued.  
  
His only answer was a glare. The captor lifted the parchment to eye level.  
  
In a deathly cold whisper, he said, "Tell that to the tiny girl who drew this."  
  
The captive's heart froze for a moment, then began racing as quickly as Hiko's had stopped.  
  
The eyes of the cloaked man shone brightly from within the cloak, narrow, violent eyes,   
  
burdened eyes, eyes that promised death; they were harder than diamonds and colder than   
  
the coldest winter storm, but held all the burning wrath of a man who'd watched life die around   
  
himself since his all-too-brief childhood. Gone was the pity in the eyes, replaced only by rage.  
  
Pale, narrow, angry eyes. Amber eyes. A shining, burning amber, verging on... yellow.  
  
The eyes of a Wolf.  
  
Down the street, several voices cried out in unison, and were silenced abruptly. Hiko's eyes   
  
darted toward the screams, but swung back to the tall man nearly instantly, his gaze fixed on   
  
the shining katana the figure now wielded.  
  
Hiko started. ' When did he draw his katana...? '  
  
The captive was taken aback, cringing under the fearful gaze of the warrior before him, but was   
  
unable to tear his gaze from the awful eyes that bored into his black soul. The confident voice,   
  
now brimming with the threat of emotional breakdown, trembled at the sheer force of the feeling   
  
inside himself. His voice, now strained with rage and sorrow, surfaced only three times, as the   
  
wind caught his hood and finally blew it aside, revealing the chipped, forceful features of the   
  
Shinsengumi Third Squad captain, Hajime Saitou.  
  
" Aku, Soku, Zan. "  
  
A short, clipped scream, and the 'divine conqueror' collapsed at the booted feet   
  
of the Wolf of Miburo.  
  
' Aku, Soku, Zan... '  
  
Saitou's gaze burned into the dead man on the ground, his eyes unflinching and cold.  
  
"Shinsei, indeed. All that is holy dragged into such wickedness..." whispered the Wolf.  
  
His burning eyes bored into the dead man at his feet, and a flicker of despair flashed through them.  
  
Shaking his head silently, he raised his head to the stars, as though searching for something.  
  
His katana gave a metallic ring as he quietly returned it to it's sheath, his eyes never leaving  
  
the sky.  
  
"I will not surrender," the Wolf stated quietly. "I will live on and face these evils as long as I can  
  
hold a sword, and I will not compromise on justice, nor allow evil to go unpunished. I *will*  
  
continue until the very end, and I'll win." Saitou's eyes fell to the blade at his side, one of the  
  
finest swords in Japan, his constant, nameless companion. "Aku, Soku, Zan. No compromise  
  
on what is just and pure." he growled. "No compromise, no retreat."  
  
Almost without thinking, Hiko strode forward into the moonlight, his face partially hidden  
  
in the shadows yet, directly in front of the Wolf.  
  
Saitou's eyes shifted instantly from the stars of the sky to the powerful-looking man now   
  
twenty feet in front of himself, unable to keep the suprise out of his eyes at the sudden   
  
appearance. Hiko matched the Wolf's eyes with his own relentless, suprahuman gaze.  
  
The two stood in silent analysis of each other; Hiko, mostly for the benefit of the man before   
  
him, 'Everything I need to know of this man, I just learned, I think.'  
  
For his part, Saitou was perplexed and irritated in the extreme. He gave no outward sign of it,  
  
but he was straining to sense even a trace of the tall man's ken-ki, and failing. Being Saitou,  
  
though, he didn't show it in the slightest; he could mask his ki too, after all.  
  
'But I've never encountered *anyone* who could *completely* hide his swordsman's spirit...'  
  
The silence persisted for a few minutes, but the bigger man showed no signs of speaking. It   
  
was unnerving to Saitou, being unable to detect the slightest thing about his opponent. It was   
  
not something the Wolf of Miburo had ever experienced, nor was it something he enjoyed.  
  
Hiko, on the other hand, was fairly comfortable in the tense silence, his deep amber eyes  
  
burning with a strange kind of recognition. It was like finding a long-lost brother that one  
  
never knew one had; Hiko felt an odd kinship to the man before him, who had squared off  
  
into an ungainly stance that Hiko found somewhat puzzling.  
  
Saitou knew those eyes; they were the eyes of a man in despair, of one losing a battle  
  
against his own sorrow and rage. He'd seen them before. Just for a moment, he'd seen these  
  
same eyes in a very different man...  
  
"...what do you want? " Saitou finally snapped.  
  
Hiko grinned, the first real grin he'd had in months. " Don't really know. "  
  
Saitou's eyes narrowed even further. "What's that supposed to mean, ahou?!"  
  
Hiko couldn't stop his grin from getting wider. "Who are you?" he asked with a chuckle.  
  
"Answer me first." the Wolf growled.  
  
Hiko's grin was so wide, it occured to him that his face might split. "I don't really know  
  
what I want. Honestly," he said, folding his arms as he continued. "I just like what you said.  
  
"Aku, Soku, Zan," and no compromises or retreats. It reminds me much of my shishou."  
  
Saitou's guard did not decline in the slightest. "Exactly who are you, and how long have you  
  
been watching me?" he growled, a hint of a threat in his tone.  
  
"Seijuro Hiko, thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu," he replied without missing a beat.  
  
"...and?"  
  
"I sensed you in the tavern," Hiko said, a note of distaste shining through his voice.  
  
Saitou kept the scowl firmly in place. He sensed no deceit from this man, but then, he didn't  
  
sense anything else either. And Hajime Saitou was not one to trust easily in this day and age.  
  
"And you followed from there," the Wolf guessed.  
  
"Actually, I took the long route," Hiko said, gently tipping his head upwards.  
  
Saitou's eyes narrowed in confusion.  
  
"Went topside. Think roof," Hiko elaborated.  
  
Suspicion mounted in Saitou's mind. 'He jumps rooftops and is practically undetectable...'  
  
His scowl deepened. "Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu?"  
  
"That's what I said," Hiko returned, a bit cheerfully. A good mood was overcoming him  
  
little by little. Whatever came of this encounter, he would remember this man for all time.  
  
"I have never heard of a kenjutsu school by that name," Saitou said slowly.  
  
Hiko's grin shifted to a trademark 'Hiko Smirk'. "You wouldn't ever hear it spoken anywhere  
  
in Japan, mister," he said, basso profundo. "It's an ancient style, developed in the   
  
Warring States era."  
  
Saitou grunted. "And your reason for being here?"  
  
"In town? My own. In front of you? It should be obvious. I sensed a powerful ken-ki and my  
  
curiousity was piqued by your little scuffle. Besides," and Hiko sniffed the air, as if reflecting  
  
on the dingy establishment from earlier, "taverns aren't really my cup of tea."  
  
Saitou was silent for a moment. "Whose side are you on?"  
  
Hiko smirked even wider. "I serve the people of Japan, not the Emperor or Shogunate."  
  
The Wolf stood in quiet contemplation. "You don't belong to either the Ishin Shishi or the  
  
Shogunate, eh?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Shinsei Seifuku, I take it?"  
  
Hiko's smirk never faded. "Don't try and compare that trash to me."  
  
Saitou grinned. "A loose cannon, then."  
  
"I'd say more of a 'people's advocate'."  
  
"That sounds pompous."  
  
"Never liked that term, myself." Hiko returned easily. "Try confident."  
  
"Overly so, I think."  
  
"You may think all you like, but I guarantee you've never encountered anyone like me."  
  
Saitou paused. "Show yourself."  
  
Hiko stepped out into the moonlight.  
  
The scowl faded almost instantly from Saitou's face. Hiko grew quizzical as the Wolf made quite  
  
a show of attempting to restrain his reaction to Hiko. Hiko's smirk faded, replaced with an expression   
  
of confusion. It was then that the Wolf burst out in a roar of laughter.  
  
"You're right about that, ahou," he gasped between fits of laughter, "I've never encountered  
  
*anyone* like you."  
  
Hiko was unable to restrain a scowl. What could this man possibly be laughing at?  
  
Hiko was many things, but not comedic in appearance. His eyes tracked left and right as he  
  
struggled to discern the source of amusement, which was clearly not false - the baka before him  
  
was apparently having trouble breathing in his amusement, which only served to irritate Hiko further.  
  
The cursory scan of the area turned up nothing. Hiko's eyes locked again on the yellow-eyed man,  
  
annoyance quickly surfacing.  
  
Opening his mouth, he was about to make some snappy comments to the disabled swordsman,  
  
who was now on his knees, still roaring in laughter, when he felt something tug at his scalp.  
  
Hiko's eyes widened. ' Oh, for the love of... '  
  
The kitten, finishing it's last bit of fish, stood up and stretched out on top of Hiko's head, a few bits of  
  
the small meal falling off of Hiko's head in the process, and then the kitten made its way off the   
  
indignant swordsman, clambering down Hiko's head, onto his shoulder, then making a leap for it   
  
towards the ground.  
  
Hiko's muscles were taught and straining, his eye twitching of it's own accord. It showed  
  
no signs of stopping.  
  
The kitten lit out of the area as if it somehow knew exactly what kind of trouble it was in if it stayed  
  
a second longer. And it *was* in trouble, to be certain.  
  
No one made a fool of Seijuro Hiko.  
  
Especially not a *cat*.  
  
Hiko, desperate to regain a shred of his shattered, tattered, and broken dignity, returned  
  
his twitching gaze to the funny-man swordsman, making a conscious effort not to rend the man  
  
to pieces.  
  
'NO WITNESSES!!! *NO* WITNESSES!!!'  
  
A brotherly kinship indeed. Already Hiko wanted to kill him.  
  
Saitou's mind was screaming at him to get control of himself and stand up, and he tried to obey.  
  
Oh, how he tried. The Wolf was never one to be weak in will, but these were extraordinary circumstances.  
  
It wasn't every day that such fine humor was found in such a hellish place as this.  
  
Saitou regained his feet after a short time, a smirk plastered across his face. Hiko, on the other hand,  
  
was the one scowling now. And oh, how he could scowl.  
  
"Was that humorous enough for you?" the Hiten master muttered in a menacing tone.  
  
Saitou replied only with a smirk as he drew his katana. Hiko's eyes widened a bit at the change  
  
in behavior, then narrowed in consideration of his opponent.  
  
Saitou's strike was swift and strong, a powerful lunging slash from his right side. Hiko leaned back,   
  
crouching low and sliding into an instinctive counter stance, his nihontou gliding out of it's sheath   
  
in a swift, soaring Battou Jutsu. His katana deflected, Saitou whirled into the parried slash,  
  
his blade revolving with him, flying back towards Hiko's unguarded left side at near-Hiten speed.   
  
Hiko's left arm swiftly brought his wooden sheath against the underside of his enemy's blade,   
  
flipping it into the sky and whirling his own katana around himself in a roundhouse counter-slash of   
  
his own. The Wolf leapt high into the sky, flipping himself over Hiko's blade, coming down four feet   
  
beyond Hiko's back. He leapt further back, backing off about ten feet.  
  
Hiko's head fluidly revolved towards his opponent, his eyes tracing his foe's every movement.  
  
The Wolf smirked, and Hiko felt a chill go down his spine.  
  
"I never thought you'd be so daft and comedic," the Wolf snarled, "but it matters not."  
  
Hiko could only stare in confusion.  
  
"I've finally found you," Saitou said, his eyes narrowing in determination, "Hitokiri Battousai."  
  
End Chapter 6  
  
@_@ That took a while to write, that it did. Comedic to me, a tribute to one of my favorite RK   
  
comedies, Hiko and the Kitten. ^_^ That fic is simply a work of genius and discerning wit, no joke.  
  
o.O;; Hiko faces off against Saitou?! Egos collide (or what's left of Hiko's collides with Saitou's   
  
intact pride), sparks fly, and I guarantee some major Hiten vs. Gatotsu action. Considering Hiko's  
  
torched, depressed, and majorly embarrassed, I'd say Saitou has a chance. ^_^  
  
And no, I am not setting out to completely destroy Hiko's dignity. It just happened.  
  
Next chapter will indeed see a mighty battle between Seijuro Hiko and the Wolf of Miburo,  
  
and I promise to work hard on it. I wanna write a good battle scene. o_O Hopefully  
  
it won't take as long as this chappy did, but that's questionable... ~_~  
  
Got another idea for a fic, which I'll start after I finish this one, or maybe during...  
  
Inspiration hits at weird times. It's gonna be a fun piece to write, and it involves  
  
my # 2 fave character, Sano. Coincidentally, Hiko is # 3, and guess who's first?  
  
Kenshin, of course. o.O Kenshin rules. The fic itself is gonna be an action/adventure/humor,  
  
and hopefully, it'll be just as long as the intended length of this one.  
  
Thanks for reading! ^_^ 


	7. 07 Master of Flying Heaven, Shogunate Va...

::Disclaimer::

Sessha does not own Rurouni Kenshin, that he most certainly does not. :)

Author's Notes - Chappy 7! 30,000 words!

I think this is going well. oO

To my readers - I am indeed sorry that it's taken so long. I've been busier than you can imagine, and my laptop went outta commission for a while, and I had to have it sent in for repairs. I was about a thousand words into this chappy at that point, and all my notes are on my laptop, so I had to wait... o.O;;

Anyhow, my apologies.

I think I may have the spacing fixed this time... Let me know, okay?

Let's recap - Hiko's miffed, depressed, drunk, wants to slap something around, Kyoto is extra crispy, various cats tear Hiko's dignity to shreds, and finally, Saitou thinks Hiko is the Battousai. I can only respond with... OO Soooooo... a drunk Hiko squares off against the Wolf. Let's hope that he got any remaining fish out of his hair. o.O;;

Make sure you envision their voices when reading. When I think of the VA from the English version saying these lines, it sounds really kewl! oO I also find that listening to RK music during fanfic reading makes for a most excellent reading experience. For this one, I recommend The Will (either version), Hoeru Miburo, Let it Burn, and Fallen Angel for speaking parts. For battle themes, I suggest The Wars of The Last Wolves and Warrior's Suite. Just in case anyone likes that kind of thing... o.O;;

And so, let's continue.

Once again, thoughts are in italics, and still indicates time-lapse.

The Sword of Seijuro Hiko

Chapter 7 - Master of Flying Heaven, Shogunate Vanguard - Seijuurou Hiko versus the Wolf of Miburo!

----- ----- -----

ORO

----- ----- -----

From behind the pitch-colored clouds of the night sky, the moon shone with an unusual brilliance, its bright rays illuminating patches of bloodstained streets in the war-torn city of Kyoto. A gentle breeze, having recently picked up in the formerly still night, blew lazily through the alleys and corners everywhere throughout the area, bringing with it a hint of a mild fog. It was a brief comfort to some, whether civilian and soldier. The wind erased, to some small degree, the scent of blood that had pervaded the city for years, bringing with it a fresh scent of change, of hope, and it was most welcome by any who were awake to sense it. It refreshed their spirits, renewing their determination to try and live through the madness that was this conflict, this civil war that had dragged on for so long. Soldiers sighed, closing their eyes, blissfully dreaming of returning to their loved ones and to their former lives; men who could not fight turned to their homes and embraced their families, sitting peacefully and enjoying a moment of respite from the madness of the patrols and the conflicts. Mothers sang to their children, young boys dreamed of becoming heroes; young maidens, of handsome samurai wooing them; of a bright, gentle love amidst a world gone mad. Those who cared not for the more meaningful things in life celebrated their hedonistic wickedness until they could do so no longer, their hearts with room only for their own pleasure. Still others celebrated the same, in a feeble attempt to find meaning in their lives that seemed to hold none. No matter status or position, the gentle breeze amidst the streets of Kyoto, rolling away the clouds, both in the sky and in the heart, touched, in some way or another, every single person in that city that night.

Matters were very different for those of the city who slept.

And especially so for the great warriors of the city.

Those who slept rolled uncomfortably in their beds, disturbed by some mysterious, nameless force that was carried on the winds. The force felt was as that of a typhoon one sees in a dream, the destruction wrought by the force of the winds and rains, but the eye was no center of calm. The eye was the great force of power that was felt, and the ring was the zone of restless calm, an anxious moment of false safety before the strength of the storm was brought to bear against all that stood in it's way.

The warriors of that great city, the Shinsengumi Captains, felt the force as well, but they recognized it for what it was - the life forces, the fighting spirits, of two nigh-peerless warriors. One was known to them - a familiar presence among those great swordsmen. Some knew him almost as a brother, others as a distant friend, still others as an acquaintance and comrade. All knew him as Shinsengumi Captain Hajime Saitou, more widely known as the Wolf of Miburo.

The other ken-ki was difficult to sense at first, but as time went by in revealed itself more and more to the heightened senses of the Shogunate's greatest warriors. And what they felt struck a lance of fear through each and every one of those illustrious men thought to be free from mortal fear, for never in nightmare nor waking moment had they ever imagined such a power could be manifested in a living being.

Unable, for one reason or another, to go to the aid of their comrade, the Captains could only keep track of the battle as best they could, and count on the Wolf's skill and strength to win the fight against whatever manner of man he now stood against.

All things considered, it wasn't completely unexpected.

He was, after all, a master of Battou Jutsu.

He was not, however, the Battousai.

He was, on the other hand, better than the 'Battousai'.

So perhaps he was the Battousai. Master of Battou Jutsu.

Following that line of logic, he concluded that he must be the Battousai.

Or not.

Over-indulgence of sake had a certain effect on you. As Hiko was quickly learning.

"Battousai?" Hiko repeated, uncertain of whether he had heard correctly. '_REALLY drank too much_...'

His adversary only narrowed his eyes in response.

A flurry of memories and thoughts rushed unbidden to Hiko's mind. "I am not your 'Battousai." he snapped.

And with that, the Hiten master descended upon the Wolf.

Saitou had only a moment to raise his blade, but it was sufficent. One meter of shining, lethal steel met the Wolf's own razor-edged blade. Battle was declared.

Back and forth they traded blows, their movements swift and proficient, the end result of years of training. A flying kick to the head, a sweeping uppercut, a powerful punch to the jaw; the two men fought with all the resolve of a thousand normal soldiers, that is to say, each was the equal of a thousand battle-hardened men.

The Wolf's leg swept out in a swift roundhouse, catching Hiko behind the neck, then sweeping his free hand up to catch the man under the chin.

The punch flew, but never connected.

Saitou's eyes widened as one shocklingly powerful arm thrust directly into his stomach, depriving him of much-needed air. Grunting, he doubled over into the punch, ramming his forehead into the back of Hiko's skull with bone-crushing force. Thrusting his right arm out, Hiko punched off the ground and came down behind and to the right of the panting Shinsengumi. Not wasting a moment, he kicked off his resting spot, somersaulting as he leapt at his foe, thrusting both legs outwards to catch the Wolf in the small of his back.

Sensing his opponent's approach, Saitou leapt high into the air, moving forwards slightly as Hiko passed under him and landed with only the slightest wobble. Grinning, the Wolf let out a feral growl as he came down with his own foot square into the hulking swordsman's neck.

Hiko, caught entirely by suprise, snarled furiously, whipping his right arm out and grabbing the offending limb. Grunting, he flung the limb, complete with connected person, into the nearest grocery stall he could see. With a vivid curse, Saitou twisted himself into the flight, so as not to land on his own sword. The last thing he wanted to do was either impale himself or bend (or worse, snap) the blade.

He might need it later, after all.

The Wolf picked himself up slowly, (and a bit woozily), and hurled himself again at his opponent. Punch, kick, thrust, dodge, kick, dodge; the Wolf and the Hiten master unleashed their pent-up frustrations and sorrow in the best way they knew how.

The damage to both men was tremendous; each inflicted multiple blows on the other, despite formidable defenses on both sides, within a matter of moments. Neither seemed eager to give in, though. A broken rib or sprained wrist was a small price to pay for the Wolf in his pursuit of 'Aku Soku Zan', and Hiko needed a punching bag anyhow. The score: Hiko - bruised rib, cracked spinal column at the neck, (his neck had already been stiff from sleeping against trees, anyhow); Saitou - two bruised ribs, cracked shoulder blade, and a collection of bruises and minor cuts divided between the two of them.

Both men enjoyed themselves tremendously.

The Wolf of Miburo spun again in a flying roundhouse, narrowly missing his intended target. Whirling, Hiko sent a roundhouse right kick of his own against his enemy's legs, intending to trip and subdue him in one swoop, but the Wolf caught on to Hiko's movement; leaping forwards, he thrust all his weight against Hiko's balancing left leg, bringing the Hiten master down behind him. Hiko, cursing vividly, rolled into the fall; bringing himself up to a kneel rapidly, he resumed his roundhouse, this time with his left foot, catching the Wolf unaware. Saitou, not yet standing from his own attack, was struck in his right side; releasing a wheezing gasp, the Wolf rolled to his feet, not resting for a moment and attacking anew.

Ducking low and assuming a kempo stance, Saitou threw three quick jabs, which Hiko blocked with ease. Smirking, the Hiten master threw a punch of his own; the Wolf leapt deftly to his right, and Hiko swept his left arm out just as swiftly; however, much to Hiko's chagrin, his foe crouched low under his sweeping left arm, then leapt up, ramming his knee into Hiko's chin with an extremely audible crack. Glares were exchanged, insults were issued, and the brooding swordsman's left arm did a wonderful impression of a wrecking ball crashing into a building, as he tossed the Wolf aside with a powerful re-take on the arm sweep, whirling on his left foot and flinging the Wolf to the ground yet again. The two continued their duel until it became clear that the karate or 'empty hand' side of martial arts wasn't getting them anywhere.

Then the swords were involved.

Steel met steel in a clashing of swords the likes of which have been seen few times since. Brilliant streams of moonlight illuminated their dancing blades so vividly that the swords seemed to leave a trail of blue light in their wake.

The air continued to grow more and more tense, courtesy of the awesome sword-spirits of the combatants, and nature responded accordingly. The light breezes of before now became powerful gusts, and the moon shone more brightly than ever. The blue fire that trailed the ever-changing path of the swords was equally amazing in intensity, and now the deadly dance of swords became a manner of fireworks display; the blades moved so swiftly that the two swordsmen were now surrounded by an intricate series of shining trails of blue light, fading and flashing all as fast as they could swing.

Dodge, thrust, parry, thrust.

Hiko's eyes narrowed; despite his regard and intuition about this man before, he had seriously underestimated the narrow-eyed warrior's strength - his power and speed were a far cry greater than Hiko had estimated them to be.

Parry, parry, slash, dodge.

Hiratsuki was an ingenious attack that Hiko had first heard some years ago, supposedly devised by the vice -commander of the Shinsengumi himself. A thrust that could instantly be turned into a slash with a minimum of effort. While the attack was indeed potent, it had one flaw in it - that is, the slashing attack held far less threat behind it when you were struck by the blunt side of a katana, rather than the sharp side, thusly rendering the Hiratsuki to a simply thrust, with little threat besides; the blade was held vertically for this reason. However, if it could somehow be deflected to being horizontal with the ground, it would create the perfect setup for the dodge and then a counterattack. This, of course, meant that you had to be quick enough to be on the blunt side of the attack in the first place, a move that was undoubtedly watched for by any man who employed the attack. It would require speed far greater than that of normal men.

Hiko smirked; turning his back to his opponent, he quietly flipped the blade of his nihontou.

His cloak rustling loudly, Hiko jumped off his right foot and performed a flawless off-the-ground cartwheel, timed exactly to avoid the horizontal slash that even now whistled beneath him. His nihontou flashed out and rapped Saitou across the lower jaw, throwing the Wolf slightly off balance; coming down, Hiko decided it was time to set up his plan.

Assuming a wide stance, he crouched slightly and unleashed a furious series of powerful slashes in all directions, the Ryuu Son Sen. The Wolf was struck again and again at the knees, the waist, the arms, the forearm and wrist, and a quick cuffing of the guard of the katana, cracking it and sliding it up one side of the blade. Hiko then jumped back about thirty feet and watched the Wolf recover.

With something akin to envy, the Wolf surveyed his opponent carefully, taking in the haughty smirk and cool demeanor the man wore so well. Wiping his bleeding lower lip with his right hand, he slowly straightened his stance and approached the grinning white-cloaked swordsman; then, without warning, his stance dropped low, his left arm bent back, his right arm outstretched, his katana gleaming, his eyes determined. Then, bursting into action, he kicked off his left leg and charged at Hiko with all the speed of a Hiten Mitsurugi master.

Hiko's shock was not fully masked as he quickly made adjustments to his plan; kicking off as well, both men charging at each other with such force that the chance of death through high-speed collision became quite real.

A forward slash failed before it could begin as Hiko's side was ripped open by the swift blade of the Wolf of Miburo, the slash stopped by Hiko's missed timing, courtesy of a generous helping of saké. Grunting, Hiko opted for a more appropriate attack at such range; releasing his nihontou, he instead rammed his forearm into Saitou's face at high speed. Both men fell in a tangled heap onto the dusty street, punching and

kicking as though they were wild men, insults and curses exchanged with extreme venom, their weapons forgotten as they struggled mightily with one other.

Since they were, by nature, aloof individuals, the close combat did not last long; both men had an unspoken agreement that wrestling in the dust was somewhat undignified. Besides, Hiko's cloak was not replaceable.

The two combatants leapt for their weapons, and resumed where they had left off - that is, the Wolf and his lightning-fast thrust, Hiko and his ingenious counter.

Opting against the forward slash, Hiko instead thrust his own weapon out, but not towards Saitou; the Wolf's eyes widened as Hiko's blade rammed up against his own, the screech of metal against metal accompanied by a hail of emberlike sparks. The point of Hiko's nihontou caught on to the top of the guard of Saitou's katana, wrenching it to the side, along with the blade; Saitou's hand burned as the katana wrenched to the side despite his formidable grip.

The threat of a slash now gone, Hiko stepped to the left, almost daintily, and, flipping his blade again, brought it down in a blazing blue arc towards the outstreched right leg of Miburo's Wolf. Completely off balance now, Saitou was brought down heavily, a layer of dust removed from the street and scattered in the vicinity of his crash.

Hiko's smirk grew wider as the Wolf quickly scrambled to his feet, favoring his right leg and the back of his head. Despite injury, though, he did not waste time with rest, nor did Hiko expect him to.

Saitou's katana flew towards Hiko's midsection, bent on rending the tall man in half; Hiko whirled around, backflipping off the dusty street beneath him, and his own blade raised and swept towards the Wolf's right leg. Hiko had only intended to cut him slightly, but what happened next was something he did not expect.

With a feral snarl, the Wolf performed a standing backflip, at the same time switching his katana to his right hand and twisting to his left. A flick of the wrist, and Saitou's sword clashed soundly with the blade of his adversary, stopping it cold. Hiko's eyes widened in shock as his worthy adversary's booted feet came down behind Hiko's nihontou, leaning to his right to counter the imbalance of his midair twist. The Wolf smirked and shifted his right hand, bringing it up along the edge of Hiko's sword, the sharp blades sparking and flashing furiously.

Flustered, Hiko leaned backwards as far as he could, attempting to dodge the unexpected attack...

...and the Wolf's fang tore through his torso, leaving a deep gash from his stomach to his left shoulder.

Hiko bit back the scream that threatened to burst forth from his lips; he whirled about, bringing his own katana to chest level, and slashed the off-guard Wolf of Miburo across his lower chest.

Saitou grunted in grudging respect. " _Who the blazes is this man_...?!"

The two men leapt back from one another, desperate for a moment of rest. Their eyes met and never wavered,

the two glaring at each other with a mixture of respect and disdain quite unique to the two of them.

Their pristine blades glinted in the starlight, the finely polished steel reflected in the magnificent golden eyes of the two master swordsmen. Both men met their adversary's gaze unflinchingly and honestly, a silent acknowledgment of the other's courage and skill. Neither man spoke for a time, though their ragged breathing told a tale all it's own. Hiko's mind, already battling the effects of inebriation and extreme depression, buckled a little more under the weight of the latest developments in this war, that is, there was a man in this world who was skillful enough to wound him.

Hiko had thought that only his own pupil would ever be that good.

The tense silence was broken quickly by the Wolf.

"Well, well. I hadn't thought that your skill would be this great." he grunted, favoring his chest slightly as he tried to stand straight.

Hiko scowled in return. "I've already told you that I am not the Ishin's hitokiri, baka," he snapped.

"True. The matter now is whether I believe you or not." Again the wolfish smirk.

"I don't care if you believe me or not. Truth is not determined by the belief of men, nor is it determined," Hiko added, "by pointless battles."

The smirk grew even wider. "Ah, but that implies that this battle is pointless."

Hiko smirked as well. "It is."

"Then why don't you surrender and die quickly? I've got work to do that doesn't involve duels with men who play with kittens," he taunted, the smirk growing sadistic.

A discontented growl was all the response Hiko could find.

The two men were silent for a moment, and then Hiko spoke again.

"So what do they call you then?" he asked dryly. What title do you go by, wolf?"

Saitou smirked. "Wolf."

Hiko arched an eybrow.

"Hajime Saitou, Captain of Shinsengumi Squad Three." The Wolf searched for a reaction from

his adversary, but found none.

' _Well, at least he's an elite. However, that still doesn't excuse getting hit, whether or not I am holding back_.' Hiko mused silently. ' _Well, I am drunk. So I guess this can be written off;_ _though I won't be forgetting it anytime soon_, ' he amended, wincing as his wound taunted him.

Taking a deep breath, Hiko pulled himself up to his full height and decided that the game was over.

"Well, it's been fun, Wolf," he snorted. "I applaud your skill, but I don't have anymore time to waste here." Sheathing his nihontou, he turned and stalked off into the darkness, saying, "You're a pretty good swordsman, I'll give you that; but you're too quick to judge on superficial evidence. Next time, think before you bark."

Saitou said nothing.

Hiko continued to walk away, his long white cloak billowing in the intermittent gusts that blew through the dark alleys of the City of Blood. He scowled as he strode quietly through the deathly silent street, the only sounds the whistling of the wind, the billowing of his cloak, and his own footfalls, a steady, muffled thump, echoing in his ears endlessly.

He was somewhat disappointed at having to call an end to the match he'd been having with the man called Saitou; it had been the first opportunity he'd had in some time to spar with someone, and it had been quite a match, even if he had been holding back.

Hiko almost smiled again, remembering the blows they had traded. It had been quite a distraction...

His face fell, the momentary amusement of the fight swallowed up in the inevitability of his hunt. Such a man as Saitou existed in this world, and that meant that his deshi would most likely do battle with him sooner or later. Judging by the relative skill between the two, Hiko was sure that his pupil would come out on top sooner or later, but it would be a costly battle for the boy. The Wolf was relentless and vicious in his fighting; he had never once paused except to formulate a strategy; Hiko had seen fierce intelligence in those yellow eyes, a savage acumen that would have overcome lesser men. Even with the power of the Hiten Mitsurugi behind him, his deshi would not come away from a duel with such a man without severe injuries. And considering that wolves tended to hunt in packs...

Hiko's tenatively high spirits came crashing down; it was simply a matter of time for the boy; sooner or later, someone was going to kill him, whether it be the Wolves of Kyoto or Hiko himself or the damned power-seekers who were manipulating him.

Death was an inevitability in this life, it seemed, though Hiko knew that more lay beyond what life one had here. He didn't care much at the moment, though; all he wanted was to get his pupil as far away from this monstrous war as he could.

The Wolves of Kyoto... Saitou had mentioned that he was the Third Squad Captain, which implied that he was one of the three best swordsmen in the Shinsengumi. It was possible that he was a latecomer in the ranks, and that he actually was the best swordsman in Kyoto, save for Battousai, or it could be that he was actually less powerful than another man in Kyoto.

That thought chilled Hiko. Anyone who could best the Third Squad's leader was sure to slaughter his deshi. The two were practically even in terms of skill, though the Wolf was far stronger physically than Kenshin, he was slower. Still quite fast, though.

Quite fast.

Incredibly fast.

So fast that...

' _What in blazes_...?!"

Hiko's instincts screamed at him to jump, and jump hard. He'd long ago learned to obey his instincts in such matters, and so he leapt.

High.

Crouching low, he vaulted himself a hundred feet straight into the sky, the wind howling as he screamed upwards at an incredible speed. Glancing down as he ascended, he caught sight of the Wolf turning around and glancing upwards, his pale eyes cold and intent.

Hiko started. Saitou had been at least a hundred feet behind him - Hiko's senses had only caught the movement a fraction of a second before he'd leapt; exactly how fast was this...

His eyes betrayed his disbelief, seeing the long crater extending beyond the Wolf for over a hundred feet. Huge chunks of earth had simply been tossed aside as he had charged Hiko with that same attack he'd used earlier.

Hiko began to descend now, unsheathing his nihontou, readying his counterattack. It seemed that he wasn't going to escape this man without beating him into the ground. Though his senses were slowed by the alcohol, he was still the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, and he was not ever going to be beaten, not by anyone. Tensing his muscles, he prepared himself to execute a Dou Ryuu Sen upon landing...

Disbelief increased all the more as the Wolf charged into the sky, a veritable explosion of speed kicking up dust and rocks beneath him into a cloud that masked the entire street below him. His katana thrust upwards, the Wolf raced towards the descending master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu.

Fifty feet above Kyoto, the two swordsmen met, their forms silhouetted against the pale moon of the winter Japan sky, black shadows backlit by the brillaint lunar light and shimmering stars of the night.

Hiko was unable to restrain fully the scream that rose up from deep within him, choking out a guttural cry of pained shock as the razor-edged katana of Miburo's Wolf thrust through his stomach, the force of the strike multiplied by Hiko's own downwards speed. Buried up to the hilt, Saitou's katana was narrowly held off from completely thrusting through the Hiten master by Hiko's own unsheathed nihontou. A twist of the blade, and the Wolf was showered in a scarlet rain.

Saitou's eyes narrowed as he performed the hallmark of the Shinsengumi and his own unique style; shifting his katana to the right and eliciting another muffled cry from Hiko, he swung his arm for all he was worth, coldly intent on bisecting the amber-eyed kenjutsu master.

Knowing full well what was coming, Hiko had already shifted his weight and blade to counter the coming horizontal slash. Though he succeeded in blocking the slash, the damage already done was worsened by the shift of Saitou's katana, wrenching his bloodied muscles horribly, and he could not help but spasm in agony as the blade exited his body; a shower of crimson lifeblood again came forth from the powerful swordsman's body.

Downwards they fell, the Wolf falling to the earth with grace and precision, Hiko, in a rain of his own blood. The Wolf landed heavily upon the street, coming to one knee and rolling into the fall, taken off balance by the powerful attack and interruption of the tall kenjutsu master; Hiko, crashing into a grocery stall, disappearing in a cloud of dust and showering blood.

Saitou stood up slowly, his eyes cold and resigned. "A thrust that can instantly be turned into a horizontal slash, the Hiratsuki, hallmark of the Shinsengumi, and my perfected version, the Gatotsu. There is no tactical weakness in this technique."

' _At least until tonight_, ' the Wolf thought darkly.

Saitou tilted his head slightly, regarding the wreckage left by the fall of his opponent. "I must admit, you surprised me with your power and technique, but for all your skill, you, in the end, face the same end as all those like you. The final fate of all who stand against us, that of 'Aku, Soku, Zan'." Saitou turned his head back to the alleys before him, staring at the dead man he'd left behind at the beginning of the conflict with the swordsman who lay within the destroyed stall. "After all, it is destiny. One cannot escape fate. Shinsengumi will always be Shinsengumi. Hitokiri will always be hitokiri..."

"What makes you think you're speaking to a dead man?" a cold voice whispered.

Saitou smirked. "What made you think I believed you dead?"

From beneath the wreckage of the stall, Seijuurou Hiko emerged, his cloak stained with blood, his eyes burning a bright, blazing amber. His gaze settled on the smirking Wolf, and in a flash, he began the battle anew, intent on seeing it to its end.

Clash, clash, dodge, clash, slash.

Saitou's eyes widened at the vigor and sheer speed of his adversary's renewed assault; the power and focus of each blow was monumental, the skill and speed with which they were delivered staggering. The man named Hiko was revealed now in his purest form; a swordsman unfettered by the constraints of reserved strength or uncertainties. The power of his satsujin-ken was utterly astonishing.

In the space of a few seconds, the Wolf was up flat against a wall, cornered and pinned by the clearly superior swordsman before him, his arms locked in front of him as he held off the blade of his opponent.

"So you say you're not Battousai, ne?" the Wolf ground out, desperately pressing his own blade against

the gleaming steel quivering inches from his throat.

"It takes until now for you to believe that, Wolf?" the tall swordsman rapped out.

"I didn't say I believed it, I just asked if that's what you said." came the grunting reply.

Hiko's face became impassive as he released the Wolf from the sure deathlock he'd put down, sheathing his nihontou with considerable élan. "There's no reason for you to raise that sword against me, Saitou; besides that, you can no longer presume yourself my equal in skill - even if you had a reason to fight me, it would be fruitless. Sheathe your sword and forget about any more battle, because I'll say this only one more time," Hiko snapped, "I am not the Battousai."

Freed from his dire predicament, the Wolf took in great gulps of air, fighting to recover some of that energy he'd thought he'd had only thirty seconds before. With a wary eye, he studied the fearsome gaze of his opponent carefully. It was as if he was staring into the face of an avenging angel; Saitou had never seen eyes so powerful or determined.

His rage only made him more intimidating; had Saitou been a lesser man, he might have been overwhelmed.

But Saitou was no lesser man. And the man named Hiko was no liar, either. That much could easily be read in his eyes. Saitou was good at reading people, even those as well versed in masking emotions as the man before him. And now that Hiko no longer hid his spirit, it was easy to tell that he was indeed being truthful.

Struggling to save face before his adversary, the Wolf ordered his body to desist in its labored breathing, but to no avail. His gaze growing less weary and more thoughtful, Saitou pulled himself up and slowly sheathed his own sword, eyeing Hiko as though he was seeing him for the first time.

"What's with the spooked look, Wolf? You're the one who's been chasing me," quipped the blooded Hiten master.

Saitou quirked a brow.

Hiko followed suit.

"So, then," Saitou drawled, relaxing by degrees, "I suppose we return to the first question - who are you? Aside," he interjected, waving off the reply set in Hiko's jaw, "from what you've told me already."

Hiko shifted his weight a bit, attempting to lessen the burning pain in his side. He began removing his

cloak and shirt. "And what kind of answer do you want?"

"An honest one," the Wolf stated flatly.

Hiko considered the man for a moment. "I'm traveling, looking to find someone I once knew."

"In Kyoto?"

"This is where he was last seen," Hiko muttered, retrieving a roll of bandages from within his travel bag.

Saitou leaned against the wall he'd been backed into only moments before. "Is he a fighter?"

"Yes. He's been quite active lately, I hear."

"And you're having problems locating him, I take it."

Hiko was silent for a moment. "You could say that," he mused, busily wrapping the bandages around his torso.

The Wolf's eyebrow quirked again. "Surely it's occured to you that this man is dead."

Hiko smirked wistfully. "I don't think so." His words held a wealth of regret and rueful amusement that was not lost on Miburo's Wolf.

Saitou stared coolly at the taller man. "I suppose he's an Ishin..."

Hiko stared right back, not so much as twitching an eye. The little contest continued until Saitou closed his eyes and sighed.

"Oh, well. Why are you looking for him anyways?" he asked, opening his yellow eyes and glancing at the moon.

Hiko considered his possible replies. After a long moment he said, "I'm here to drag him out of this war."

Saitou's eyes snapped back to Hiko at that.

"I see. You disapprove of his involvement at all."

"You could say that." Hiko muttered.

Saitou averted his eyes from the brooding swordsman, regarding the large moon over Kyoto in quiet awe. "What if he doesn't want to leave?"

Hiko's face fell as he slipped his shirt and cloak back on. "He doesn't have a choice."

The Wolf continued to drink in the pale moonlight, searching the stars near the moon and over the horizon. "Well, then, if you didn't want him to go..."

Hiko glanced at the Shinsengumi captain for a long moment. After a time, he made a noise halfway between a grunt and a sigh; seeking out a corner, he set about locating a large, wooden crate. Upon acquiring said crate, he moved it towards his chosen corner. Sitting down on the crate, he leaned back against the building it was propped against and joined the wolf in his stargazing.

"I didn't want to let him go," he murmured after a time, his eyes rolling over familiar constellations. "I didn't stop him at the time because it was his choice. Besides that, he got a little upset over the matter when we discussed it..." Hiko gave a small grunt, finding the memory mildly amusing. That bump on his head had taken two months to go down... "He was willing to fight me over it; in the end, I decided that it was a choice he had the right to make..."

Saitou's eyes drifted back towards the moon. "So what changed?"

Hiko grunted again. "I did."

The Wolf frowned. "Hardly what I'd call a detailed answer."

Hiko glanced at his companion with a mixture of mild irritation and amusement. "And why am I telling you all this?" he quipped, folding his arms over his chest.

Saitou shrugged, the very image of nonchalance and cool disinterest.

Sighing again, Hiko craned his neck back and joined Saitou in staring at the moon.

"...he's going to die out here," he said quietly. _Hn. As is that isn't obvious to all..._

Saitou frowned, unsure if the stranger was being simple or profound. "And you're going to save his life?"

Hiko continued watching the sky. "His soul, anyways." _Kami-sama, I hope he still has one..._

The response, so close to blasé yet so full of emotion, chilled Miburo's Wolf to the bone.

Careful not to show it, he instead remarked, "You intend to kill this friend of yours?"

A slow nod was his only answer.

Saitou surpressed the shudder that came unbidden. "Possible difficulties?" _This could be bad..._

Hiko's eyes softened. "He's good, but not that good. Yet." _Or is he? It's been so long..._

The two men sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the moon slowly arc over the sky.

Hiko welcomed the moment of rest from his travels - for a while, his mind wasn't wallowing in despairing

thoughts, but was free to observe the wonders of nature that had been his only companions for many years.

Besides that, he already knew that the mind of the Wolf was running at full tilt, absorbing all the information accrued over the night. A little silence might help him think straight. After all, it wasn't as if Hiko had given him any truly useful information. Anything that had been said or done had been said or done under the haze of ambiguity, innuendo, and implication. Nothing really straightforward...

The Wolf sighed. "What is it that he does that's so dangerous to his soul?"

..._thus passeth ambiguity_, Hiko mused. Out loud he said, "You're asking a lot of questions for a man who just ran me through."

Saitou shrugged again, still wearing that smirk. "Information is neccessary in this age. Know your enemy, know yourself."

Hiko stared at him blandly. "What makes you think I'd inform you, when you already know he's Ishin? You'd just go hunt him down, after all."

Saitou quirked an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you're planning? To kill him?"

' _Actually, I'm not saying for your sake, Wolf_... ' Hiko thought with half-glee. "You've got enough to do without worrying about him, Wolf. Just forget about it. He's not that important to you," he lied.

A chuckle resounded from the Wolf. ' _If he's even remotely near that man's level, he's more worrisome than even the Battousai.'_

Hiko caught on to the disbelief in the Wolf's chortle. "What's so funny?"

At that, the chuckle grew into full-blown laughter.

Hiko glanced at Saitou reflexively; experience had taught him that men who laugh incessantly and are high-level swordsmen were dangerous to be around; men who laugh incessantly after being slashed up, beaten down, and fought to a near-draw were particularly worrisome.

Saitou waved off the attention. "So exactly how do you propose to find this man?" he queried, changing the subject. "People around here are not very forthcoming with answers to hard questions, you know; you find one Ishin, you find a flock of them - if you catch one, you learn of a dozen. People know this - it is somewhat difficult to get them to speak a word at all, let alone for them to point out where you can find the nearest rebel." Saitou returned to stargazing, feeling reflective himself.

Hiko shrugged. "I'll find him - he stands out a bit."

"How so?"

Hiko glanced at him again, from the corner of his eye. Saitou shrugged in response.

"I had to try, you know." _Didn't really expect that to work anyways..._

Hiko frowned. "Are all you Wolves so persistent?"

Saitou grinned. "Of course. You have to be persistent to catch your prey."

"And do you _eat_ your prey when you find it?"

Again with the wolfish smirk. "Wolves are always hungry, you know."

Hiko stifled a guffaw at that. "So how is it, then, that you aren't head of the pack?"

Saitou's grin grew wider. "I could be, perhaps... But I don't care for such things. To have the chance to pursue evil at all turns is enough for me. I could care less about rank." _Besides, Okita is an excellent captain..._

A moment of silence befell the street. It was not a tense silence, and both men felt more relaxed than they could remember being in some time. In their minds, it seemed illogical to conclude that anything living would challenge them after witnessing the small display of skill they'd put on earlier; but they were by no means off guard.

It was therefore not a matter of scrambling for one's weapon when a piercing scream resounded through the cold night, followed by several more agonized cries of pain, which were quickly silenced. Leaping to his feet, Hiko was halfway down the street in less than a second, followed closely by the Kyoto peacekeeper.

Hiko shrugged off the pain in his side, and ran progressively faster, outpacing the Wolf by far. Leaping into the sky again, he began to jump from roof to roof, moving more quickly than he ever had, though his heart felt heavier than when he'd arrived in Kyoto, if it was possible. Though his body begged for rest and his soul for peace, he did not slacken his pace in the least, but only continually increased his speed, desperation tinging his movements, his mind focused on one thought. Though he had covered half a mile in under a minute, still he moved faster, his mind obsessed over the single thought that echoed endlessly in his mind...

' I know that scream; I know that voice; and if there is even one wound, so help me, I'll kill everyone I find there...!"

Thus the thirteenth master of the soaring heavens leapt into the sky, soaring above even the thin wisps of fog that had set in during the night, one hundred fifty feet up towards the moon, and flew the three hundred feet that spanned between him and the crossroads that lay drenched in blood like a falcon towards its prey.

A battle cry like none ever heard resounded from high up above the city of Kyoto, and not one person within the city failed to recoil in shock at the warrior's scream, not even those who slept.

The voice told a tale of power and rage, a warrior unrivalled in potential, one who had seen far too much in life, and one whose mind threatened to break if he was pushed one step farther, for that voice consisted not only of fury and strength, but of fear as well.

END CHAPTER SEVEN

Okay, who here loves RK music? Who here loves Shades of Revolution, Ko-to-wa-ri, and Wars of the Last Wolves?

raises own hands multiple times for each

ALL HAIL TAKU IWASAKI! ALL HAIL NORIYUKI ASAKURA!!! ALL HAIL TARO IWASHIRO!!!

I now have all RK soundtracks, boxsets, some wallscrolls, the first four English manga; what I need now is t-shirts and a next-gen RK game... oO

Anyhow...

Next chapter will see some more combat, but not combat like this chappy. o.O;; That will come again later.

Until then, please review! I'm already working on Chappy Eight, so it should not take so long as this one!

Thanks for reading!


	8. 08 Chance Meetings

: : : Disclaimer : : :

Sessha does not own Rurouni Kenshin, that he most certainly does not. :)

REVIEWER RESPONSE

Night-Owl123 - I'm glad you like it, and very sorry I took so long to update. Here is chappy 8! ( o.O) I hope you enjoy it.

Unseen Watcher - .. The authoress who inspired me to begin writing my own story. I thank you for your review of my little fic, and proudly present chappy 8!

D.F. Feda - ( o.o) No offense taken at all. Actually, I did a little dance at getting my first death threat! My family thinks I'm weird now.... . ;;

skabs - ( o.o) ? Kenshin...? Oh, you mean the screams. Oh, well. Read on. Enjoy the chappy!

DarkFeenix - I'm glad you liked it! ( o.o) I present Chappy 8 and a more-IC Saitou. ( I hope... )

RLB - .. I sorta failed that two months thing... sorry about that... But here's the update!

vinny valentino - . ;; when you said 'take as long as you like," I think I took it a BIT far.... o.o;; Sorry about that.

the sacred night - My devoted beta. I'm VERY sorry for not shipping this one to you first, but I thought I better hurry up and update SOON.

That won't happen again, I promise.

pruningshears - I'm happy you're happy. As for BEST battle scene, I'm not sure if I deserve that but will happily take that title! ( O.O) Thank you! It's a huge confidence boost, believe me.... w00t!

D-Chan3 - ?? Kenshin? Ah, Kenshin... Thanks for your enjoyment, and enjoy the chappy!

Lucrecia LeVrai - u.u I'm sorry you didn't enjoy my battle scene, but am very glad you liked the chappy itself. This chappy might fill your craving for conversation, though!

daniel-gudman - ( O.o) Actually, Hiko's a very smart and learned person. I don't find it odd to imagine he's learned stuff about other nations and stuff. It actually makes sense to me... as per 'hitokiri', the people in RK seem to treat it as a thing of terror, I decided to follow with that. To Battojutsu, you're right, of course.... but Hiten is different. To evil swordsman/ evil politicians ratio, if one considers all the Juppongatana, Shishio's army, Jin'e, etc... ( O.o) Number gets big. Besides, swordsman automatically get more attention and are more conspicuous because of the nature of the thing. Dirty politicians are always trying to keep the deed under the table. As to the Shinsengumi... :D read on! Thanks for reading, too. I hope you enjoy chappy 8!

Hitokiri-san - I got Hiko as drunk as a herd of elephants in a Budweiser factory. o.o Yep, he's drunk. By the way, I highly recommend alcohol abstinence....

Note - 

.. You may throw heavy objects at me now for being so late....

Please note, for those of you who have the Final Fantasy Tactics soundtrack, I recommend reading the part in italics to the song "Hero's Theme". o.O It sure sounded good to me...

The Sword of Seijuro Hiko

Chapter Eight - Chance Meetings

Stained with blood, a tall man's katana was lowered so that it rested by the side of its wielder, a man cloaked in white and blue, and equally stained with the blood of men. A flick of the wrist, and the blood dispersed into the air, leaving the blade relatively clean, if one discounted the deep red stains on the silken wrap and the scent of death that hung in the air. The owner of the katana grinned coolly at the carnage before him, his eyes betraying not a hint of regret or sorrow as he whispered those famed words of the Shogunate's finest swordsmen corps with reviling relish.

"Aku, Soku, Zan."

The men behind him chuckled their agreement, their eyes equally unmindful of the tragedy that had just occurred. Their own bloodstained weapons were swung wildly from side to side, flinging blood in all directions; sheathing their weapons, the illustrious Shinsengumi began to examine the men they had left lying dead in the streets of Kyoto.

"Hey, Shinzo!" one man called out. "You'd better have a look at this!"

Grinning, the man named Shinzo kicked aside the body of one particularly bloodied swordsman, the expression of the fallen man desperate and determined. "I've told ya, Tanaka, don't call me Shinzo. My new name," he said, savoring his arrogance, "is Shin-zan."

The men around him chuckled in grim amusement at the self-applied nickname. His grin widening, the leader of the small band kicked the dead body once more for good measure before turning to walk towards the smirking Tanaka.

Walking through a field of dead men as if he hadn't just ordered his unit to slay a dozen men, he stifled a sadistic chuckle as he watched his men frisk the dead bodies for money and valuables, and the weapons.

He didn't want to seem like he was having _too_ much fun.

"So, what's so bloody interesting, Tanaka?" he called nonchalantly.

The other man only grinned and pointed in front of himself. "Have a look-see at this."

Mildly irritated by his underling's vague reply, he quickened his pace and cast his eyes to his right, and promptly stopped cold. His face split into a lecherous smirk.

"Well, well, well. Supper and dessert to boot! What a day," he chuckled. "I was pretty sure I heard a wench's scream."

Amidst the wreckage of a street vendor's tent, surrounded by three dead swordsmen, lay a young woman in her teens, her formerly light violet kimono wet with blood, smeared across her torso and legs. Her head hung at an angle, her kimono and obi ripped across her abdomen, obscured by the dark blood and the shadows from the tent. Through a rip in the material that made up the cloth roof, a glimmer of moonlight shone down upon her upper torso and head, illuminating the long, silky raven strands of her hair that fell around her youthful face, and glinting off a peculiar hairpiece, shaped like a butterfly, both soiled in blood. Her young body's soft curves were accented by the moonlight, eliciting an animalistic grunt from Tanaka.

"Never let it be said that the Shinsengumi are without luck," he chuckled. Tipping his head up to the sky, he nodded.

"Thank you, gods."

The other men now noticed the object of 'Shinzan's' and Tanaka's attention, and were themselves drawn to the spot where the young woman lay silently.

"Whaddaya say, boss?" one grunted. "Shall we have a little fun before we go back?"

Shinzan gave a small grunt of approval. "Can't let a nice little opportunity like this pass us by," he commented gleefully. Kneeling down, he reached his hand out towards her...

...and nearly impaled himself on the sheathless swords his men were carrying, as an earth-shaking scream pierced the deathly silence of the night.

The thunderous sound of his landing did not go unheard, nor did his uncharacteristic battle cry. His cloak whipped in the winds as he skidded to a stop, one booted foot extending out as a brake, his hair shining in the moonlight. His decade-old sword, polished, spotless, and completely unmarred, whistled through the air in a blinding blue blaze of light, coming to rest above his head, arm extended outwards, blade facing behind him. His sword unsheathed, his burning eyes quickly analyzed the bloodied streets, searching. His eyes passed over dead man after dead man, but his mind did not even register it as he scanned he streets, almost in desperation.

His search was interrupted by several cries of surprise and sudden anger; sparing a moment, he glanced upwards to learn whom it was who still breathed on this bloodbathed patch of dust.

What he saw froze him solid.

There, in the moonlight, surrounded by fifteen men, lay a young woman, covered in blood, her head hanging in death, her kimono partially opened. Her glossy midnight hair dripping blood...

But that was not all.

In her hair there was a strange object shaped like a butterfly, crude and artistically lacking, it was nonetheless well-made, its wings many different hues of red and violet, it's golden body's legs nestled in the young woman's hair. A hairpiece, most likely made by a child.

A child Hiko knew well.

__

"What have you got there, Kenshin?" Hiko boomed loudly. His deshi, formerly locked in intense concentration, jumped twelve feet into the air and rammed his head into a sturdy tree branch with a resounding crack. Hiko couldn't contain himself and began laughing at the top of his formidable lungs as his deshi fell into a crumpled heap on the ground.

After a moment, Hiko's loud laughter died down, and he poked his motionless deshi with one booted foot. The boy didn't move at all.

Hiko's eyebrow twitched.

"Hey! Get up! It can't be that bad, I hit you twice as hard as that on a daily basis!" he snapped.

His motionless deshi did not respond.

Grunting, Hiko pushed him over with his boot, and collapsed into laughter again at his deshi's swirling eyes.

Another chuckle rang out from the big man sitting across from him; Kenshin, quite fed up with it, lifted his eyes and gazed accusingly at his master, whose grin only widened as he fed the campfire.

"Don't look at me, boy. It's your fault for being caught off-guard."

Scowling, Kenshin went back to dabbing his grass brush into the red-violet liquid in the bowl by his side, and began applying it to the object in his hand, wincing as his head assured him that it wasn't going to forget the little fiasco from earlier.

Curiosity, still unsatisfied, took over control of Hiko's behavior, shoving Nonchalance and Indifference aside.

"So, what new way of embarrassing yourself are you working on this time?" Hiko opined into his sake.

...accompanied, of course, by Sarcasm, ever-present, ever-vigilant.

Kenshin's scowl deepened. "It's..."

Hiko's eyebrow quirked ever so slightly. "It's... what, baka deshi?"

The scowl creasing Kenshin's face threatened to make a permanent valley between his eyes.

Hiko grinned broadly. "Careful, deshi, your face might freeze like that."

Kenshin muttered something inaudible and continued to work.

Hiko's grin faded as Curiosity grew more and more insistent. "What is that you've got there, boy?"

"It's nothing."

"You're a poor liar, my dumb apprentice."

"Alright, it's nothing you'd be interested in."

"I beg to differ."

Kenshin's head shot up, and he stared at Hiko in unmasked shock.

Feeling like something he'd not wanted to be known had slipped out, he belted out a quick, "You'll never be as handsome as me, baka deshi. You might as well forget about it," complete with dismissive flicking of fingers.

Kenshin's formerly wide eyes narrowed in exasperation, and he hung his head with a considerable sigh.

Still feeling as if something was amiss, Hiko again insisted on knowing what Kenshin was doing.

The young redhead eyed Hiko warily. "What do I get if I tell you?"

Hiko sighed and shook his head. "Sometimes I think I should've made you a merchant's apprentice, Kenshin."

Kenshin was unperturbed. "Well?"

Hiko leaned forward. "What is it you're looking for?"

"I want to skip training tomorrow."

"Not a chance, kid."

"I also want you to loan me two yen."

"What?! Why?!"

"Because I'm gonna need it."

"What for?"

"I'll tell you that, too, for another yen."

Hiko scowled. "I haven't even agreed to give you the first two."

"But you will," Kenshin grinned.

"Oh? And why is that?" Hiko snorted skeptically.

"Because curiosity is the one weakness you have, Master." the boy said triumphantly.

Hiko's eyebrow twitched. "Fine, the two yen and the day off. But, you're going to tell me what you're gonna do with it, too, or you get nothing."

"Then YOU'LL get nothing, too."

"I'm not the one who was fishing for something in the first place."  
"Yes, you were. You asked **me** _what I was doing, and then -"_

"Shut up and tell me what you're planning, Kenshin, or I'll make you run five miles right now, in addition to making you work off that two yen I WON'T give you by chopping firewood!"

"Alright, alright..." Kenshin sighed. His eyes fell back onto the small object in his hands. "I'm making a hairpiece for Miss Ayane."

Hiko was speechless for a moment, and then a smile crept across his face. "Well, it's about time, apprentice. What do you plan to do with the money?"

"A band of traveling performers is going through the village tomorrow, and they're having a festival on the same day," Kenshin responded quietly, lightly dabbing the object. "I'm going to ask her to come with me."

"You mean, you're going to ask her if you can go with her."

Kenshin looked up. "Oro?"

"You know very well you'd rather be playing with your sword than attending a festival, baka deshi, and I know it as well," the big man replied coolly. "The only reason you'd be in that village tomorrow is because of a... **special** attraction, one that has nothing to do with the performers or the festival."

Kenshin paled. "I, uh.... well... that is, I- I mean, she-"

Hiko waved him off. "I know how it is, deshi. There's no need to explain it. When you fall for a woman, very little else seems to matter; swords, kenjutsu, anything. I understand exactly how you feel." he said, smirking into his cup.

That only encouraged Kenshin's stuttering, which was exactly the effect Hiko was going for. His sadistic sense of humor satisfied, he leaned back against a log and watched his deshi in amusement through the licking flames of the campfire.

After a time, Kenshin regained his coherence, and continued to paint the small object in his hand. Hiko nodded at it and inquired what it was.  
"It was part of the deal, after all."

Kenshin was silent for a moment, but after a few moments of consideration, he said, "It's a butterfly."

Hiko nodded gravely. "Of course it is."

Kenshin's eyebrow twitched.

Hiko stifled the bubbling laughter inside him, and instead gazed up at the stars, trying not to break down in front of the boy, who, by the feel of his ken-ki, was feeling increasingly violent.

Several minutes passed, and as Kenshin's ki calmed, the boy began to snicker. Curious, Hiko's gaze fell upon his apprentice-with-a-plan. The boy's expression was akin to that of sinister satisfaction. Hiko wondered if he was raising a hentai for a moment, but dismissed that thought. The kid was too shy and respectful to be thinking anything... less than honorable. The snickering continued, however, until Hiko finally spared him a dispassionate glance and asked what was so humorous.

Kenshin's smirk broadened, and the snickering grew louder. "You begged."

Hiko sat quietly for a moment, listening to the crackling of the fire...

...and the never-before-seen sweatdrop graced his head for the first time.

__

As it had become habit since he had taken the flame-haired youth in, the thirteenth master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu was very much unaware that his eyebrow had begun to twitch regularly when he was faced with some ridiculous aspect of daily life regarding his bumbling swordsman-to-be apprentice; Hiko's oft-frayed nerves had gone from perfectly in-tune to twitching and highly sensitive to annoying stimuli. It gave him something of a comical appearance at times, a man of his size and build in a total facefault, his eyebrow twitching sporadically.

It was even more comical when he was standing behind a tree, watching said bumbling swordsman-to-be bumble into a tree or three on his way back up the mountain.

For the third time that night, Hiko sighed quietly as his apprentice walked right into a rather large oak, and earn another sizable bump on his war-weary forehead. Even more exasperating was that the kid took no notice, but simply back up and continued walking, utterly ignoring his wounded head and lightly tracing his fingers over his right cheek.

Heaving another weary sigh, Hiko could only grin at his apprentice's silent awe at the gentle mark that had been given him. It reminded Hiko of why he'd taken the boy in; that naive innocence that enshrouded the just heart within him. Many times Hiko had been surprised at the ferocity Kenshin showed in training, and afterwards equally surprised with his timidity and clumsiness. The boy was a walking compilation of small mysteries and contradictions.

Hiko's exasperation came to a peak as he watched his daydreaming apprentice set course for yet another tree. Seeing as how it would be the fourth run-in in less than six minutes, Hiko decided that he had to intervene so that the boy would return to the cabin before dawn the next morning.

That decided, he pitched the small pebble he'd been holding towards his apprentice's head.

There was a thump, a yelp, and a keeling over of one small redheaded boy. Hiko felt a small bit of annoyance at having pitched too hard, and decided to remedy his mistake by soundly rousing his apprentice.

Therefore, he lifted the pail of water he'd brought along for the occasion.

"So, Kenshin..."

"Master?"

Hiko smirked with considerable sadism. "How'd it go?"

Kenshin stiffened, and the blood drained from his face as his mind raced to find a way out of his situation.

' If he finds out she kissed me, I'll never survive it... I'll have to kill him... ' he told himself again and again. ' Think, Kenshin, think... there's got to be a way out of... '

"I'm waiting, apprentice." The smirk widened all the more.

Kenshin growled quietly, and vengeful thoughts begin to fill his head. ' Arrogant, nosy, self-righteous thinks-he-knows-it-all... There is no way I'll EVER let him find out that - '

"Would you just be out with it and say she kissed you, baka?" Hiko asked in a feigned tone of boredom.

Kenshin facefaulted, and Hiko collapsed, roaring in laughter. Totally ignoring the speechless boy, he rolled onto his side and began to pound the ground incessantly, spilling his sake in the process.

Flushed and embarrassed, Kenshin's growl deepened. "Master...!"

Hiko only laughed harder, the pain in his side growing more vivid.

Furious, Kenshin could only fume as his master rolled about in the dust, totally absorbed in his own mirth. ' Trust him to find my romantic life to be a funny thing... ' he thought to himself bitingly. ' I'd do a thousand practice swings a day for the rest of my life if I could just embarrass HIM for one...'

Time passed, and Hiko's raucous laughter eventually died down to constant chuckling, to mild chortling, and finally ending in an extremely satisfied smirk. Kenshin watched the process with a mixture of curiosity and professional interest. ' I wonder if he'd laugh that much if I dipped his hair in some of those paints I bought... ' he mused.

Mindful of his deshi's silence, and wishing to avert his own impending assassination, Hiko tried to make some light conversation.

"So, tell me about the festival, deshi. How'd it go?" he asked, refilling his saucer.

Settling back against his log, Kenshin crossed his arms and glared at Hiko. Hiko followed suit, and for a time, the two continued to simply sit and stare, neither blinking, both totally intent on breaking the other.

A minute, then two, then three, and despite the blazing fire not two feet from either of them, neither batted an eye, flinched, looked away, or so much as hinted at any expression other than a vivid scowl.

Hiko felt his eyes begin to grow tired, he was a little closer to the fire and his eyes were drying out. If the staring match continued much longer, there was a chance that he might break first...

And that was anathema to him.

Hiko flicked his wrist and his beverage went sailing into Kenshin's face. Sputtering, the boy wildly wiped at his face, and glared venomously at the smirking face of Seijuro Hiko XIII.

"Ready to tell me now, boy?"

And the fight was on.

The fire was low and smoldering by the time the scuffle ended, and following that master and student shared a lengthy conversation regarding the events of the day. Several times both men found themselves searching for firewood, and the moon was half done with it's nightly journey across the sky before the chat came to an end. It reminded Hiko, a bit painfully, that being the heir to the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu came with a heavy price; his life had been anything but normal, even by the standards of civil war, before he had taken Kenshin in, and his life following that had seemed to Hiko to be close to what a widower must feel; raising a young child without the love and support of a wonderful woman to lean on. His inner strength was indeed sufficient for life, and he was content as things were now, and with the addition of Kenshin and his new romantic interest, Hiko was approaching satisfaction in life. There was, however, a void, something that his belief in Heaven, his battles with iniquity, and his makeshift adoption of Kenshin could not fill.

It was a lonely existence, the life of the man who wielded the invincible sword of justice, who spent his days training endlessly and his nights slaying wicked men. The addition of an apprentice had lightened the load somewhat, but still he felt it, a longing for more, something that he simply could not make better as he was now. Strange, but true; in the end, even the nigh-invulnerable master of the Holy Sword could not cure all ills, indeed, far from it.

The silence of his master was something that struck Kenshin as highly uncharacteristic, and a little scary. His master had almost never been at a loss for words, no matter the situation, and when he was, it was a certainty that something was very much amiss. Kenshin found himself shifting uncomfortably against his log, wondering if he had sad something he shouldn't have. Glancing uneasily at the glorious master of Hiten Mitsurugi, Kenshin was again struck at how awe-inspiring his master's appearance was; powerfully developed muscles wrapped in fine silk and cotton, the marvelous, shimmering cloak of the Hiten heir, white and red and totally without blemish, the simple, elegant beauty of his cherry-wood sheathe and the glittering blade within, and his long, dark hair that seemed always to be perfectly in place, as subject to his will as any other aspect of himself. Kenshin felt some slight envy at his master's great size and appearance; being short and over-slender himself. He knew well how much Ayane liked his own appearance, but also that the mere presence of Hiko rattled the girl into stuttering oblivion.

The great swordsman sat in careful thought, his long bangs hanging in front of his eyes, obscuring them slightly, and casting his face into deep shadow. Even the moon's brilliant rays could not lift the darkness that masked his face. His arms folded over his chest, he gave the impression of a man trying to come to a difficult decision.

All was silence for a few minutes, and Kenshin was debating whether to break the silence himself when Hiko tilted his head back very slightly, his eyes still shrouded in shade.

" ...It sounds like you enjoyed yourself very much, baka deshi," said he softly.

Kenshin flinched at his master's soft tone, unconsciously pressing up against his log. Often had Hiko spoken quietly, in reverence or solemnity, but 'soft' was not a term he would ever have thought of to describe his master's speech.

"Ah, yes, Shishou..."

The older man did not move, and was a long time in speaking again. "Now come, Kenshin," he whispered, "listen to what I say. I will question you and you will answer me like a man. I don't want you to think about how to answer, I want to know your heart's thoughts, not those of your mind. Close your eyes and listen."

Kenshin shrank back against his log further with a hasty, "Ah, yes, Shishou."

Hiko tilted his head slightly. "Suppose the revolution spread to the village below us, Kenshin. Imagine that every day is filled with executions and night patrols, instead of quiet farmers peddling crops and merchants selling pottery," Hiko held up a hand, silencing his deshi's response before he could voice it. "I know how you feel about the Shogunate, Kenshin. That's why I'm asking."

Kenshin settled back against his log, and Hiko continued quietly. "Naturally, since we're so close to the town, and we have friends there, we would often be there to keep them safe. One night, we are forced into battle with an elite swordsman, as powerful as myself in every respect." Kenshin started again, and Hiko gave a faint smirk. " I didn't say it was a realistic scenario, baka deshi." Kenshin smoldered, but remained silent.

"The swordsman manages to kill me, Kenshin, but is grievously wounded himself. The whole battle has revolved around Ayane's family being accused of harboring rebels, and her parents and siblings are imprisoned already. Only she managed to escape, and we found her around the same time the swordsman found us." Kenshin nodded slowly, face scrunched up slightly. "My question to you, deshi; what do you do now? I'm dead, my killer is injured, the city is filled with soldiers, Ayane's family is imprisoned, and she herself is with you. What now?"

Kenshin balked at the question, prompting Hiko to level a cool gaze at his apprentice. "What do you do, Kenshin?" he repeated quietly.

Stuttering for a few moments, Kenshin returned his master's gaze uneasily. "Can I have a minute to think about it, shishou?"

Hiko nodded once, and Kenshin instantly fell into thought. Several moments passed, and Kenshin did not say a word, but merely sat and hung his head in deep thought. Hiko's own mind was clear, having already decided what his judgment on Kenshin's possible answers would be.

Rousing slightly, Kenshin looked up and folded his arms. "I suppose I'd take Miss Ayane back to the cabin, have her wait there, then go and try to free her family..."

"What about the enemy?" Hiko asked. ' Answer right, apprentice... '

Kenshin folded his arms. "After I freed her family, I'd go back and bring down the man who beat you, Shishou."  
Hiko's face did not change. " After that?"

Kenshin's eyes narrowed in thought. "I... guess I'd keep patrolling as often as I could, keeping the village safe from the Shogunate." Kenshin shrugged. "Ayane and her family could live here on the mountain, and I could come back here if I needed rest or medicine or food."

Hiko nodded in Kenshin's direction. "You'd keep this up for how long?"  
"Until it wasn't needed anymore."

Seijuro was silent and unmoving. Kenshin was confident in his answer, however; he felt something very important had just occurred in his master's mind, though for the life of him, he did not know what.

Slowly, Hiko came to his feet, cloak gently swaying in the calm breeze as he turned away from the fire.

"Wrong answer, Kenshin."

Kenshin was dumbstruck. "Wrong?!"

"Wrong, Kenshin."

A moment Kenshin sat, feeling drained and drawn, then a flood of conflicting emotions came to him all at once. "What's wrong about it?" he asked, confused.

The breeze picked up gently, swaying Hiko's cloak and hair gently from side to side.

"Even injured, you are not nearly strong enough to kill anyone like me, Kenshin." Hiko said quietly. ' Not yet, anyhow... ' he thought. Out loud he said, "Beyond that, if I was dead, and there were swordsman like me out there, patrol would be nearly useless either way. You'd just die as well, and what would that serve?"

Kenshin gritted his teeth. "I'd have gone down like you, Shishou."

Hiko gave a genuine chuckle, and an extremely uncharacteristic, "I appreciate that, apprentice."

Kenshin started violently, staring wide-eyed at Hiko. Hiko's mouth turned upwards in a small smile.

"Having said that, there's no guarantee that they would not find the mountain cabin. And without you there, Ayane's family wouldn't have a chance in hell of escape or survival. The penalty for escaping arrest is death, after all. Your life would have been wasted taking on too much responsibility than was meant for you..." Hiko again fell silent, and Kenshin could do nothing but wait for his master to continue.

"For the Hiten Mitsurugi masters before you, the sword was used to eradicate evil all across Japan, doing the most that one man could to keep innocent people safe from wicked men. Not so with you, my baka deshi." Hiko said after a time.

'Not so...?'

"Shi-shishou?" Kenshin stammered.

"I'm saying that it's not your responsibility to fight at all turns, Kenshin, nor to try to protect everyone who is persecuted. That was my lot; it is not yours."

"Wh- what are you saying, Shishou?" Kenshin demanded; he was both confused and discouraged by Hiko's words, unsure what they meant and what they meant for his future.

"I'm saying, Kenshin, that the correct answer is that you take Ayane away, and her family, and never return. You keep her safe, you protect her, you never let her become endangered again. Find a small village, raise a family, become a farmer, always keeping in practice, always the best swordsman you can be, so that if your family is endangered again, you can protect them and survive."

"But what about the village?! What about the man who killed you?! And what about the Shogunate?!" Kenshin demanded angrily. "I have to do what I can to protect the people and avenge the wrongs the government committed, don't I?!"

Jumping up, Kenshin grabbed Hiko's arm and jerked the big man to one side, glaring at him furiously. "What good is the Hiten Mitsurugi if I don't put to use, shishou?!"

The taller man smiled wistfully at his apprentice, remaining silent.

Frustration welled up inside Kenshin, and he shook his head violently, as though denying his master's words in his heart. Hiko spoke again softly.

"When I first began training you, do you remember how you responded to me, deshi?"  
Kenshin glared again at the taller man. "What does that have to do with anything?"  
"You were suspicious of me," Hiko continued, answering his own question with a hint of amusement. "You had no idea why I wanted to teach you anything, let alone how to defend yourself and others. You asked me what I wanted from you-"

Kenshin scowled. "And you never answered me. But that has nothing to do with -"

"Your sword is not meant for protecting Japan, Kenshin, but the people around you. You will not follow the path of the Hiten masters before you," said Hiko, and Kenshin's anger left him suddenly, as a child's balloon pricked by a needle loses air. "Your duty, your MISSION, Kenshin, is to protect your family and friends, those people in your sight, and pass on the principles you have learned on this mountain..." Hiko stalked away into the night, snow-white cloak gently swaying in the cool twilight breeze. "Be happy, Kenshin. That is what I want from you. That's what I demand of you, more than anything else."

And he vanished into the starlit night.

In that moment, he could see nothing except his own tears, feel nothing but the boundless sorrow that slid into bottomless rage. A fury like none he had ever known possessed him, as his searing gaze took in the motionless young woman lying against the bloodied lumber, her beautiful kimono stained with her innocent blood, and that slight wrinkle in her obi where that bastard Shinsengumi had expressed his lust for her, even in death.

Despite all his training, he had never in his life assumed that he could handle the death of one so young and so close to him without some degree of insanity possessing him. Gazing at the dead young woman, the woman he had hoped would marry his fool apprentice and bear his deshi's children, all thoughts of emotional training and cool detachment were cast into the screaming wind. He was a passionate man who kept his potent emotions under lock and key at all times, suppressing more and more as he watched the world around him collapse; there was simply too much to contain anymore.

His mind snapped.

And the world around him responded.

Hajime Saitou was not a man prone to superstition; he did believe that there was more to life than what one could know with his own senses, but he had always regarded mysticism with a mixture of distaste and 'Aku, Soku, Zan'. Being one who didn't care for charms or ofuda or the like, he had walked through battlefields thought to be haunted, pursued his enemies through graveyards said to be guarded by demons, and essentially gone where no other man would without flinching. That was the kind of man Hajime Saitou was - courageous, dedicated, and most of all, obsessed with justice.

He was an obsessiveman in all respects; he loved his wife more deeply than could be understood, and if he caught even a hint of a threat to her, that same night there would be bloodshed. He was loyal to a fault - defying orders was nothing to him, nor was facing down dozens of swordsmen or even Western guns, if those few he called friends needed aid. Despite his cold exterior, he loved children, and burned with a violent rage when they were hurt or sorrowful. He made it his life's mission to do battle with evil whenever it presented itself, for the sake of his country, his people, and his wife and unborn child.

Hearing a scream of a young woman in the night, therefore, was something that merited his immediate attention, and that of his sword.

And so he ran.

The swordsman named Hiko was blindingly fast; Saitou was not a slow man by any means, indeed, he was swifter than most, but the giant of a man had left him in his dust as much as a gazelle might leave a tortoise in it's wake. The Wolf ignored his body's quiet warning that he could not tolerate going much faster, and forced himself to increase pace a bit more. Still pathetically slow compared to the 'Hiten Mitsurugi' master, it was nonetheless swifter than the eye could follow effectively.

His pace increased all the more as the gentle breeze of the night suddenly howled into furious action, whipping through the streets violently, scattering dust and debris everywhere. Faintly did he hear the guttural cries of men; just as faintly did he hear the voices grow frantic, and then all was silent, save for the violent gales that whipped and lashed in all directions.

Running faster now, the Wolf's left hand immediately went to his katana as he beheld movement in front of him. He felt the presence of the powerful swordsman in front of him, perhaps a quarter-mile off, and also, several flickering life-forces, which quietly faded into obscurity, even as he strained to differentiate between them and the overwhelming, murderous rage that rolled like ocean waves over the Wolf's soul. His eyes glazed over for a moment at the sheer magnitude of the emotions he was sensing, but he did not stumble or sway as he continued running towards whatever it was that awaited him; surely, it was not something he was in any hurry to see on an emotional level, but he ran nonetheless.

He came to a skidding stop as a strange fog swept over him, obscuring his vision and filling his nose with the scent of blood. Blinking rapidly, the Wolf grimaced again as he realized what had occurred. The scent of blood gave much away, but what was left for the Wolf to deduce was sickening.

There had obviously been a fight in the direction that the winds were coming from, and judging from the scattering of the mist and the amount of it, it must have involved many men, perhaps a dozen. Since he felt only Seijuro Hiko in that direction, he concluded that it had been the dozen versus the Hiten master; however, that was only half of it.

The slashes and movements of this man were so swift that the blood that burst forth from the men he had slain had not settled, but instead had been distorted and dispersed by the gale-force winds that flew from one end of the street to another; truly, such had been the strength of the scattering winds that the blood had not fallen to stain the ground; a mist of blood, carried on the winds, like nothing so much as ocean spray amidst the chaos of a typhoon.

Even for one as hardened by war as he, Saitou privately conceded that never had he ever encountered a situation like this, or aftermath, for that matter; some more emotional aspect of his persona quietly asked what kind of power and speed it took to create a fog of blood from a dozen men. Ignoring his weaker half's pain at the experience, he wrenched his emotions under control and took a step forward through the scattered patches of fog, now sparse and far apart.

The dancing of the droplets from his sudden movement would have melted the resolve of a lesser man, but the Wolf continued forward, his eyes burning with a cold fury, and he resumed running, though more slowly now, for whatever events had led to such bloodshed, he heard and felt very little, except for the life-force of the swordsmaster whom Saitou had met only moments before.

Whatever had happened, it was over. All that remained was an impossibly angry man with the strength of an army and the speed of lightning, emotionally unstable, and very likely ready to kill whatever came his way.

Even as the Wolf resumed his pace, another man came to a screaming halt.

Dressed in light blue and white, a small contingent of the Shinsengumi's finest swordsman rounded a bend in the winding streets of Kyoto and emerged into a portrait of death, as though summoned from their deepest nightmares.

A tall man in a cloak that must have been a brilliant white once before stood amidst at least a dozen dead Shinsengumi and almost as many men in dark Chousu blue yukatas. Ishin Shishi and Shinsengumi alike lay dead at the feet of the giant man whose long, dark hair and elegant mantle, spattered with dark red stains, violently whipped in the winds.  
The man in front of them, whose senses and spirit were more fine-tuned than those around him, held up an arm and motioned for the men behind him to stay still. One man, older than the others, wearing the dignity of an ancient samurai house, ignored the motion and swiftly strode the leader's side.

"Don't move," the first man whispered harshly. "You can't possibly fight a man like this."

The graying elder swordsman stared at him incredulously. "But Captain, it's just one man! And even were he a demon," and at that the elder glanced uneasily at the cloaked killer, "the Shinsengumi cannot retreat!"

"You can, and you will," the man said in a voice of iron. "You are all going to turn around and report back to base, and you, in particular, are going to inform Hijikata-san that if I am not back within the hour, to find Saitou-san and gather all the other Captains together, and to come here and kill this man." _If Saitou is even still alive..._

The stunned Shinsengumi didn't budge. "But, Captain Souji...!"

"You will follow my orders," Okita Souji said quietly, his young voice cool and level with the air of a man who expected to be obeyed whenever he spoke to anyone. "You will take the men back to base and inform Hijikata-san of exactly what I have told you. You will do this immediately; I will not repeat myself again. Is that clear?"

His second-in-command stuttered for a moment, searching for the words with which to bring his commander to his senses, but he quickly gave up, seeing the burning determination in the smaller man's dark eyes. His shoulders sagging in defeat, he only whispered, "Good luck, Captain," and turned away, shouting at the surprised soldiers to fall back. All was confusion for a moment, but the shocked Shinsengumi gradually melted away from the bloody street, leaving Okita very much alone.

The wind screamed even louder, whipping his hair into his eyes; Okita brushed it away and matched eyes again with the crimson-drenched swordsman before him. Despite himself, the blood drained from his face as he glared back at the violent amber eyes that bore into him accusingly. In Okita's mind, it was as if he was staring at Death incarnate. The two swordsmen stood silently for many long seconds, their glaring eyes speaking louder than any words.

An explosion of dust, and the raging swordmaster's blade was at Okita's throat, narrowly blocked by the lightning-quick reactions of the First Squad Captain. However, though the attack was blocked, the smaller man stood no chance against the staggering strength of the unknown behemoth of a swordsman.

Despite Okita's timely parry, the young Shinsengumi was unable to stop the furious warrior's follow-through, and Okita found himself flying through the air, crashing back-first into the support beams of a large vendor's tent. Grunting, he flipped himself up as soon as he came crashing down, stifling a grunt as the splinters of the wooden beam pricked into his back and legs. Coming to his feet, he squared off into the Hiratsuki stance and gave himself a moment to recover his equilibrium. Hurling himself at his opponent, he thrust his blade forward with blinding speed, yet the only thing he caught was the bloodstained cloak of the giant swordsman, now rent down the center.

Okita threw himself totally into his thrust, and escaped death from the sweeping stroke of his opponent by the slightest margin. He did, however, lose his topknot to it.

The First Captain's insticts were well honed, and they were screaming at him to run away from this battle, as far as he possibly could. Already he felt the air shifting around him; the madman was to his right, already swinging...!

Okita shifted his arm up, his blade again barely deflecting a blow that would have meant instant death. Whirling to his left, shifting his sword up and then down as he did so, he swung upwards with all his might, intending to cleave the tall man from knee to opposite shoulder. The man, though, wasn't there.

Okita froze, bewildered at the disappearance of his opponent, until a shadow passed over him and the air shifted again.

__

Above!!!  
Okita whirled again, raising his sword, but he never got the chance to swing.

Flipping over in mid-air, Hiko's booted foot drove squarely into Okita's chest, flinging him backwards and sprawling him against a sturdily built stone wall, denting but not destroying it; he gasped loudly as all the air he had rushed out of his lungs, trailing off into a wheeze as he tried to stand.

Lifting his eyes, he saw his death personified.

Left arm angled back, right arm thrust out, sword parallel to the ground, hand at the base of the handle. Saitou's Hiratsuki Gatotsu, expertly copied by the blood-drenched swordsman, whose cloak seemed unnaturally still, as though held aloft by the whipping winds, his eyes burning with a strange kind of vengefulness.

Okita could hear nothing except his heartbeat, which seemed to have slowed dramatically from the racing rhythm during the battle. Slowly and irregularly did he perceive the explosive lunge of his enemy, so lost was he in the latter's blazing eyes.

The world went gray to his eyes, and it seemed to Okita rather like watching a display of canvas paintings, each one much like the last, only slight shifts in position and tone. At first the swordsman's left arm was cocked behind himself, just beginning his lunge, the next moment it was slightly forward, and there was a cloud of dust behind the man; next, his arm level with his chest, and then, it was ahead of him, his cloak billowing behind him, his blade shining and pure as crystalline ice.

"Hi-... Hiko-sama...?"

Some time passed before Okita fully grasped the change in the situation, as the giant swordsman roared to a halt, sword pulled back, screaming to a halt barely in front of Okita's face. The tall man was still as stone, and the roaring wind died down as swiftly as the man's fury had; seconds passed with no sound from either Okita nor his opponent, until finally, the swordsman relaxed and let his sword rest by his side, releasing a sigh that seemed to hold the weight of the world.

Hiko turned away from the fallen Shinsengumi, not caring the slightest if the man came after him while his back was turned.

A thin voice came again from the shadows. "Hiko-....sama?"

Quickly now he dashed to her side, knowing instantly her peril. Her abdomen still bled slowly, yet the slash was only cursory, with no serious damage done; but from her snow-white complexion and her shallow, rattling breathing, he knew something more deadly was at work.

Hiko fell to his knees, hunching over her, gently running his hands over her to check where she was wounded. His hands crossed over her chest, and his heart stopped cold as she gave a slight gasp.

The work of the Hiratsuki, a direct puncture through her right lung, which was now filling with her blood. There was no side-slash - a mercy.

Choking back a cry, his eyes turned swiftly to the dazed Shinsengumi, and in one mighty leap, he was at the fallen man's side, hoisting him into the air at sword point.

Hiko's lips curled into a snarl. "Take me to the nearest medical clinic, boy, unless you want to die this night." he hissed through clenched teeth.

Okita's eyes narrowed, and Hiko's grip on Okita's throat became violently strong, making the smaller man choke quietly. The intensity of Hiko's gaze grew all the more. "Is it worth your life to refuse to help a wounded little girl that YOUR men attacked, samurai?" he growled.

Okita choked again, but said nothing.

Finality came into Hiko's eyes. "Your death is deserved, then -"

"South of here, about a quarter mile."

Hiko's head snapped around; before him knelt Saitou, observing the wounded girl carefully.

A deep growl sounded in Hiko's throat; Saitou eyed him warily, slowly standing and backing away, carefully avoiding grasping his katana.

Dropping the small Shinsengumi captain unceremoniously, Hiko ran swiftly to Ayane's side, and, gently picking her small form up, dashed into the south, vanishing in the darkness quickly.

Saitou harrumphed. "It seems we have a new problem to deal with," said he quietly, reaching into his back pocket and withdrawing a cigarette.

Okita eyed Saitou in confusion. "Who the hell was that, Saitou-san?"

Shrugging, the Wolf twirled the cigarette expertly as he lit a match single-handedly. "I only met him tonight, but he says he's a master of a sword style called Hiten-no-Mitsurugi Ryuu." he murmured, leaning back against a wooden beam and closing his eyes thoughtfully.

Dusting himself off, Okita stumbled to his feet, wincing as his back pleaded with him to just lie down. "There is no such style in all of Japan, not that I've heard." said he, rubbing his throat firmly.

Nodding, Saitou took a long drawl on his cigarette, the burning cinders lighting his face up eerily. "I agree, but from our fight tonight, and from looking," and at that, he motioned behind himself to the bloodied bodies in the area, "at this, I'd say his style is certainly worthy of such a name."

The First Captain glanced around himself. "You fought him?"

Saitou smirked. "Fought him? Yes, I suppose you could say that. It seemed a bit one-sided after a time."

Okita's gaze locked on the smirking Third Captain. "Alright, Saitou, I think we need to start at the beginning."

Saitou's eyes opened, dancing with amusement in the fiery light of his cigarette. "We're going to be talking awhile, then. I suggest we head back to headquarters and have a chat with Hijikata-san."

A crack of light shone across a darkened room, only a small, single, where all was silent save for the pained breathing of a young woman and an elderly man applying cool water to a cloth. Shadows passed over the thin crack of light, making the elder turn his head slightly to observe the newcomers. Two men talked in low voices, one nervous and the other restraining a great deal of rage. Hurried whispers became more frenetic until the second man shoved the former aside and entered the room, flinging the shoji aside and hurriedly making his way to the side of the young woman.

His breath caught violently, his expression darkening over furious eyes. Kneeling softly, he spoke gently to the girl, caressing her pale, cold face, his hands trembling with fear and fury. The elder's eyes softened in grief as he watched the man torn between staying and leaving, caught in the throes of a terrible indecision. Free hand clenching and unclenching, the younger spoke now in a quiet tone to a third man who now stood in the doorway, head bowed in sympathy.

"I want the men who did this thing found, and I want them dead," said he, voice trembling.

The man in the doorway nodded slowly, then froze as a gleaming blade emerged from the shadows, barely stopping an inch from the jugular of the man kneeling by the injured young woman.

All three men in the room stiffened, not budging an inch. A cold voice spoke from the shadows, asking the name of the kneeling man. The response, seemingly innocent, sent a violent shiver through the body of the assailant, the candlelight dancing on his motionless blade.

"Your life is forfeit, Kogoro Katsura," the blood-freezing voice intoned. "Yet before that, I want to hear exactly why you felt it worthwhile to drag a fourteen-year-old boy into this bloodbath you've created."

Katsura's face paled slightly, yet his voice remained steady. "If you're going to kill me, do it. Just leave the doctor and the girl be, I beg you. She's no thre-"

Katsura hissed quietly as the blade at his throat drew a slight trickle of blood; the man in the doorway flinched, and two golden eyes appeared from the shadows, boring into the man's soul.

"Himura?!" he choked out.

Katsura's eyes widened in shock, then doubly as his attacker growled in derision.

"That's the name of your pet assassin. I am Seijuurou Hiko, thirteenth master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu," he rumbled. "I'm the one who raised that idiot boy you call Battousai."

END CHAPTER 8

Author's Notes -

Rule 1 - There is no such thing as too many cliffhangers. :)

Rule 2 - If you're gonna cliffy, make sure to write next chappy within a month or two. ;; Seven dun cut it.

Rule 3 - The art of the cliffy must be mastered to become a good writer.

Rule 4 - I'm still thinking about that one. o.O

Alright, I believe Shinzan literally means 'Spirit-Kill', or 'Heart-Kill'. Either way, it's a good name for a really, really bad guy... Perhaps unoriginal, but that's how it is sometimes... o.O Please forgive.

It took a while to write this chappy for various reasons, but primarily because when I write something, I want it to be _good_, and taking two/three months to write a good chapter for a story that I really want to write well is worth it to me. That, and my laptop went in for repairs AGAIN, and it was six weeks before I got it back. oO Anyhow, quality is what I strive for here - I hope I'm succeeding. o.o

In addition to that, deciding whether or not to let Ayane die in this chapter held me captive for nigh on a week. I choked up when I began writing the death scene, seeing it clearly in my mind. I'm sorry for the additional delay, but I just couldn't write it. It was killing me. As you can see, it didn't turn out as a death scene, but no guarantees for future chapters...

Technically, it WAS supposed to be a death scene, but I'm finding myself unable to ever finish it. It keeps getting scrapped. o.o;; What you see is my alternate product, the backup plan. ..

Please review! The story's getting a little darker right now, but... hey, it's a dark era. o.o Know this though - the good guys always win in the end, so, Hiko's gonna rule the day!

O.o Please post commentary on the style of this chapter; I tend to feel I was a bit wordy in places, and I found myself wishing I could draw a picture instead for you to see instead of write words to be read...

oOo Perhaps I should look into drawing a fan comic of this story! O.o I am a fairly good artist...

--' No way, I have enough to do as it is... o.o Well, it was a fun thought. Anyhow, please review!

Thanks for reading!


	9. 09 Despair

o.O Sessha has transferred to a new computer. Therefore, his chapters may be posted a bit differently henceforth. Sessha asks you to forgive him.

Also, messed with my last chapter's formatting, and erased all my underscores and greater than/less than signs and stuff that I used for spacing. I apologize greatly for the choppiness of that chapter; here's hoping this chappy comes out better. o.0

:) Hello, all. Welcome to Chappy 9 of the Sword of Seijuro Hiko. ( o.o) I sincerely hope everyone enjoys this chappy as much the others.

Note - Getting discouraged lately. After a particularly long night of work on this chapter, I awoke the next day to find that _all of my work was gone_. Needless to say, this ticked me off severely.

( ) on to the chappy!

() 

( ) --- --- ( )--

The Sword of Seijuro Hiko

Chapter 9

The Eyes and the Sword

(U) (U)

() 

P.S. - If no one could tell yet, I LOVE emotes.

A chill trickled down the spines of the three men, now held captive by the terrifying presence and power of Seijuurou Hiko. None moved for the longest time; whether by shock or grandeur or mortal terror, the Hiten master held them spellbound and utterly without drive or defiance. Staining his blade was a slight droplet of blood of the man named Katsura; slowly now it seemed to smolder into nothingness, as though the wielder of the blade found it offensive and burned it away through the sheer power of his will.

Hiko's eyes traveled to the deathly pale Ayane, lying on a rustic cot, bandages and blankets stacked in heaps over her small frame.

"Will she live?" Hiko asked quietly.

Slowly, hesitantly, the elderly doctor nodded. Hiko's blade quivered, and then withdrew from the throat of the Ishin Shishi leader, leaving a slight blue trail of light in its wake. Katsura noticed the luminescent trail with extreme interest, and a deep sense of foreboding.

_I've seen that light before - from Kenshin's blade. Rarely, though... and only when he's giving it his all. _he thought to himself. _This man is barely moving and still that light follows his blade... is it his ki?_

Quietly leaning back against the wall behind him, Hiko's gaze fixed on Katsura once more, sending a slight shiver down Katsura's spine once more.

_Those eyes... they really are just like Kenshin's..._

Closing his eyes, Hiko breathed deeply, and, to the ears of the doctor, quite painfully. It sounded to him as though there were a rattling in his chest that he was struggling to conceal; even Katsura was suspicious of a faint rattling sound he heard as the amber-eyed swordsman inhaled.

Exhaling slowly, Hiko bowed his head slightly, opening his eyes as he did so.

_Such a menacing gleam to his eye... even if he is sickly or wounded, he claims to be Kenshin's teacher... _Katsura's mind raced through possible things he could say or do to disarm the steadily thickening tension in the room. _From his statement earlier - I suppose he is here to exact revenge on me for making Kenshin into a hitokiri. _His shoulders sagged slightly. _He'd be doing me a small favor to kill me for it; it's been haunting me since that first day... I better begin by figuring out the facts of this situation._

Noting the swordsman's vacant glare into the void, Katsura straightened his back, and composed himself as fully as he was able. " Are you the one who brought my sister here?"

Hiko, who had been sensing out the varying ki-aura of the Ishin leader and the poor girl lying on the floor, was totally unable to hide his shock at Katsura's question. "Sister!"

Katsura nodded, glad to have broken the ice, though uncertain why it mattered to the swordsman so. "Yes, she is my sister; I learned she was here late this afternoon and sent several of my best guards to escort her here... but she never arrived." The rebel leader clenched his fists tightly. " I've been panicking myself more and more with every hour... I was sure she was dead somehow, but I had no idea what I could do... I sent men to find her, and they reported a bloodbath down the street from here..." Hiko's eyes narrowed as Katsura continued. " I... was unsure what had happened after that... my guards dead, and Shinsengumi too... more than a dozen of them." At that, Katsura's voice grew tense. "Shinsengumi attacking my guards was understandable... and we are risking much being here right now. But I had no idea what they had done with my sister..."

"They were raping her under the assumption that she was dead." Hiko said in a voice of iron.

The Ishin Shishi leader's hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. "Somehow that does not surprise me. Nonetheless... she is only a child..." Unfettered rage came into Katsura's eyes. "And it was you who slew them all?"

"It was."

"I thank you then, for I surely would have hunted each one down and had them ripped asunder."

Silence befell the room, the three men absorbed in their own thoughts and concerns.

"So this is the face of our enemy, then," said Katsura in a strained voice. "A child becomes their enemy and prey. A mere child..."

Hiko's rage flared again. "Don't play so innocent, bastard!" he hissed violently. "You're no better than they are."

Silent for a moment in surprise, Katsura felt a slow burn of resentment welling inside him. He sat up straight and eyed his adversary coldly. "And who are you to say anything about that?"

Hiko thrust out his right arm, ignoring the screaming pain in his torso, his finger stopping inches before Katsura's face. "You are the man who recruited my fool apprentice to be your angel of death, are you not!"

"Yes." Katsura said flatly.

"Thus your answer your own question." growled the Hiten master.

"The two are nothing alike..."

Hiko laughed, a brassy, yet empty, sound. "What difference? The life of a child means nothing to either of you."

"The difference being," Katsura seethed, "that Kenshin wanted to-"

Hiko's laughter ceased abruptly, and madness came into his eyes. "_Kenshin_! So you pretend familiarity with your pet assassin."

Katsura growled deeply. "_Kenshin_ came to me wanting to help end the war as fast as possible."

"And it was _you_ who turned him into a demon of the night!" Hiko spat.

Katsura's face grew livid. "He is _not_ a demon." he hissed.

"Don't be coy, baka. Murder by night, blood and death being the only thing you see - we both know what kind of life you've given him over to," returned the Hiten master hotly. "We know the madness of such an existence, and you knew full well what would -"

Katsura shook his head vehemently. "He is not like that. He's still sane."

"How nice," Hiko seethed, voice dripping with feigned sweetness, "that you can read the mind and soul of a fourteen-year-old hitokiri like an evening newspaper, eh?"

Katsura's patience broke; violently brushing aside Hiko's arm, he thrust his own arm out, finger directly pointed at Hiko's sword. "By the same token, one could ask YOU why you trained him to be the perfect killer!"

A faint rumbling sound could be heard from the giant swordsman's chest, foreboding and threatening. "That is an entirely different matter."

"I fail to see any difference," Katsura growled. "The boy has talent that most men could never dream of; the best swordsman and guards of the Shogunate are like elderly drunkards in comparison." Straightening, Katsura eyed the taller man with a gleam of violence shining through. "I've heard stories of him descending on elite swordsman like a cat upon a field mouse, slaying them more swiftly than the witnesses could even blink... His motions are as swift as lightning, and soundless as an owl; his form peerless, his technique flawless. Until the formation of the Shinsengumi, I was certain that he was without equal in all of Japan..." Katsura drifted off, closing his eyes slowly. "And it was you who made him into such a master of satsu-jin ken. So don't tell me you didn't know what kind of life he might live thereafter."

Hiko growled, his muscles tightening in a white-hot fury. Katsura opened his eyes again, eying Hiko without fear. "He asked me to put him to work towards bringing the Shogunate to its knees, and I did so. It was what he wanted," said he quietly, maintaining eye contact with his would-be captor. "It is _war_, swordsman. I will not pretend that it is a righteous thing to do, but it _is_ the best thing to do."

Broken syllables and words came from Hiko's lips. "And... who are... _you_... to decide _what is for the best_!"

The elderly surgeon fell back with a cry - Katsura's eyes widened in surprise and sudden fear; the enraged swordsman had gone from sitting in a barely restrained rage to standing a glorious seven feet tall, left arm around the throat of the Ishin leader, his cloak whipping and twisting from his sudden movement, his basso profundo voice thundering so powerfully that fine china cracked and shattered at his speaking.

Such was the potency of Hiko's ken-ki that again a howling wind descended upon Kyoto, bowling men over in the streets, ripping tarps and tents off their ties and stakes, hurling whole baskets of wheat and soy into the sky. Silver-edged, pitch-black clouds enshrouded the moon, covering the whole of the city in a darkness so bleak that men a foot apart could no longer see each other, or even hear one another, through the whine and scream of the violent gales. Rain began to fall, slowly at first, stinging from the speed of the winds; gradually it came more heavily, more violently, as if the city of Kyoto itself were an evil to be pelted and scraped away under the force of the skies above.

Terror gripped the city now, sending even the most hardened warriors to their bases for shelter, or even to breaking into nearby buildings and sheds, desperately seeking protection from the power of the elements.

Mighty bolts of lightning reached across the skies, white and blue and violet, dancing tendrils of energy that shone so brightly that the nigh-inpenetrable darkness was swept aside, lighting the city up as though it were morning, then vanishing into the clouds and covering the city again in a bleak, unending blackness that threatened to overwhelm every person alive in that dying metropolis.

The thunder was deafening in the fullest sense, and it shook the ground so violently that the citizens despaired of the earth itself, fearing that it was also preparing to betray them. Families huddled together, warriors stood back-to-back with their comrades, and animals fled for the lives, only to be blown back into hiding by the rending gales that suffered none to pass.

The candle in the small infirmary flickered and faded, the blackness complete and all-consuming, save for the dangerous, beautiful electric arcs that lit up the skies, illuminating the chiseled features of Seijuro Hiko, and the blazing, scalding, golden light of his eyes.

Despite what his instincts said, Katsura refused to claw at his captor's battering-ram of an arm. He knew in his heart that no one could save him from the madman who even now slowly squeezed the life out of his body. Choking quietly, Katsura caught a glimpse of Hiko's angular face for a moment, half-revealed in the blue-violet light of the lightning outside, revealing sharply curled lips over snow-white teeth bared in a glower so fierce and intense as to stop the hearts of lesser men; then the light faded, leaving only the withering golden glow to illuminate the room.

The lightning flashed faintly as Katsura fought to remain calm, despite his body's screams for oxygen. As though granting an encore, the lightning flashed time and again, revealing always the face of the Hiten master, the elderly doctor, quivering in a corner, and his beloved younger sister, breathing slow and shallow, a cold sweat on her young face. Now, though, Katsura saw only shades of red, a crimson as deep and pure as that of the blood that fell on his head for the life of the young man he'd made into an assassin.

_This then... is the end for me... _his mind whispered. _The end of my struggle, the end of everything... _Choking again, what breath he could draw came with a cut-off rasp to it. The sound was morbidly interesting to Katsura. _The sound of my death... heh, heh, heh... Death by asphyxiation... hardly... the way... I wanted to go..._

He felt himself go limp, as his body and mind began to shut down. _I'm so sorry, little sister... and Kenshin... I've only caused... more suffering... I never wanted it like this. . . ._

The thunder flashed again, revealing a barely conscious Katsura, still held in a deathgrip by the crimson-drenched Hiten master...

...and the wide, fearful eyes of Katsura's sister.

"_Brother!_" she gasped, her voice rasping and uneven.

The golden light flared even brighter, and the lightning shone like the sun. Hiko's hand went limp, and Katsura crumpled to the floor, his lungs violently filling and emptying as swiftly as his heart could beat, rasping and rattling like a man brought back from drowning.

Despite his quivering body and flighty state of mind, Katsura's will was sufficient to force his body to begin crawling towards his sister's side, even as his captor/executioner knelt beside her, making a quiet sound that to Katsura's delirious, oxygen-starved mind, sounded oddly like sobbing.

Feverish, yet quite aware, Ayane reached weakly towards her older brother, who grasped her hand with near-equal infirmity, tears of relief welling in his eyes, spilling over and silently falling towards the floor.

The roar of the thunder faded now to a dull rumbling sound that came now and again, and the lightning, too, subsided to some degree, illuminating the room just enough for Ayane to see her brother's tears, and quiet enough for her to hear his gasping, yet joyous breathing.

Smiling weakly, she tried to pull herself to a sitting position, only to gasp as a sharp pain lanced through her right lung. Her brother's formerly weak hands suddenly gained strength, and he hauled himself powerfully to his feet, still drinking in air like a fish returned to the sea, gently, yet firmly, pressing her down to the cot. To her surprise, she felt a second hand, not her brother's, also push her down. She then remembered faintly seeing her brother being choked to death by a large man in a red cloak.

Her eye, blurry and weak, tracked upwards, widening in unabashed shock at Hiko's tear-drenched face, partly hidden in shadow, his many tears glimmering in the electric light.

"Hiko-sama!" she cried softly, again trying to raise herself, only to be firmly pressed down again by both men.

Katsura's mind clicked. _-__Sama; so she knows him pretty well... but how? _Twisting himself slightly, he glanced sidelong at the swordsman, now certain that he heard muffled sobs from the hulking man. Faintly he saw the giant frame quiver and convulse - Katsura was dumbfounded. _What in the name of..._

Ayane, too, was held spellbound by the grieving swordsman. "Hiko-sama...?"

"Why on earth did you come to this place, girl?" Hiko choked out abruptly.

Ayane sighed slightly, laying back against her small pillow. Her eyes closed and she began to murmur to herself.

Katsura, confused in the fullest, looked back and forth between the two, trying to divine what exactly the link between them was. His eyes narrowed slightly as Hiko began to teeter back and forth, as though falling asleep.

A particularly bright flash of lightning bathed the room in a soft blue glow, and the elderly doctor's eyes widened as he beheld a steady flow of blood oozing from Hiko's torso and chest. Katsura, too, saw the wounds, and caught his breath sharply. Ayane, startled, opened her eyes and gasped as well.

"Should never - have come here, girl..." Hiko whispered, keeling forwards.

More out of wanting to prevent his sister from being crushed than from wanting to help his would-be executioner, Katsura leapt fowards and caught the giant man before he fell atop Ayane. His breath went out loudly, and he staggered under the immense weight of the swordsman.

The doctor glanced between Hiko and Katsura, eying the latter as if asking permission. Grunting, Katsura nodded, and the doctor leapt up and called for his assistants, and began gathering his tools.

Katsura hoisted the wounded man higher, and began to look for a cot. "It appears that now you are at _our_ mercy, swordsman," he grunted. "Fortunately, I'm not the type to hold a grudge against a man."

_And besides, I want some answers._

o.o o.o o.o -- New spacing thingy

o.o o.o o.o

An hour before dawn, Katsura left his sister's side and made his way to the room where they had put the man named Hiko. Quietly opening the shoji to Hiko's room, he shuffled inside and seated himself to Hiko's right side.

The elderly doctor eyed Katsura sidelong, dipping a well-worn cloth in a small saucer of water and applying the cloth to Hiko's forehead. "He's an incredible man, I'll say that much."

Katsura grunted. "Explain."

The doctor gestured by way of nodding towards Hiko. "Shoulder-to-waistline sword wound, about an inch and a half deep at the deepest point. His ribs are clearly marked at the wound line, and his center rib has almost been bisected by the attack. It's a miracle, and nothing short, that it did not break since the attack. Had that happened, one of his lungs may have been punctured."

Katsura blinked. "That's... amazing."

The elder chuckled. "It gets better. His muscles there have been cleanly torn; I admit, I'm at a loss to explain how he's been able to keep using that arm at all." The old man shook his head. "Anyhow, that's not all. He's also been stabbed in the torso, a little above and to the right of his stomach. Again, no vital organs were pierced, but his muscle tissue is in a shambles. His side was also slashed open from the wound."

The Ishin leader scowled. "Hiratsuki."

Nodding, the doctor continued, motioning to Hiko's head. "He's also running an extremely high fever, and he shows signs of extreme, and prolonged, mental duress. His blood pressure is extremely unsafe; I am willing to wager it would kill a normal man." At that, the doctor winced. "Also, he's showing signs of extreme malnutrition, but judging by his size, muscles, and bones, I think that it is extremely unlikely he is underfed."

Katsura motioned dismissively. "Doctor, what does that mean?"

The older man pinched the bridge of his nose. "That, and my observance of him over the past few hours, lead me to conclude that his metabolism and regenerative capabilities are... inhuman."

Katsura blinked again. "Inhuman?"

"He's been wounded for hours now, and the extent of the wounds should have killed him with the blood loss. His body just regenerates his blood at a rate like no other man in the world. His ability to heal is astonishing; though he did indeed require help when he appeared to us, had he simply taken rest for a few months and eaten right, I'm almost positive his body could have healed itself with no outside aid."

Katsura was silent for a moment, then leaned forward; in a hushed whisper, he asked, "What are you saying?"

The doctor shook his head and sighed. "He should be dead, and he's not. His wounds, his blood pressure, his mental state; he should have been dead hours ago. But he's still alive, and already beginning healing. I'm telling you that he's just not a normal human; if he even is human."

The Ishin leader's blood ran cold, and a violent chill ran down his spine. "If he's human? Doctor, what else could he be other than human?"

Silence reigned the room. An hour later, the sun began to rise, and still, neither man could find the will to speak.

o.o o.o o.o

o.o o.o o.o

Groggy was a term not readily applicable to Hiko. His perpetual state of paranoia and distrust of the world had molded him into an extremely light sleeper, awakening at a pindrop or the squeal of a mouse. This was a dangerous state of affairs, since he never slept without his sword at his side; Kenshin had learned early on to wake Hiko from a distance if he was sleeping longer than usual.

Today, Hiko awoke with a moan and a wince, his head throbbing with pain. His first instinct was to put his hand to his head, but when he tried to, he found his shoulder and torso to be positively on fire. Grunting, he let his arm rest by his side and instead focused on taking in his surroundings.

His vision was blurry, but he managed to make out a modest room filled with blankets, pillows, and large numbers of boxes. A bit fuzzily, he was sure he saw a large number of bottles of varying shapes and sizes, and what appeared to be assorted medical tools.

"So you're awake."

Hiko's eyes snapped to his left - there sat the man named Katsura, head hung low, as though a great weight had been placed around his neck. Hiko blinked for a moment, and then recalled the stormy night he had met Katsura. A deep growl began in his throat, but trailed off into another grunt as his head began throbbing all the more. Head still bowed, Katsura smiled wistfully.

"Don't try to move too much - you've been out for over a week now." Hiko's headache doubled in intensity.

"A week!"

"Indeed. Our doctor here has been caring for you during that time, although it's been something of a hassle on him with all the other wounded we have here as well."

Hiko decided to lay very still and gather his strength. He eyed Katsura very coldly. "And why exactly have you bothered to keep me alive?"

Slowly, Katsura raised his head and gazed at Hiko, his eyes bloodshot and heavy-lidded, his face red from tears.

Hiko's blood ran cold, and the fire in his soul seemed to go out with a quiet whisper of disbelief.

"She asked me to." said Katsura quietly; Hiko's expressionless face froze briefly, and then he faded into the bleak darkness of unconsciousness, his mind whisperingly denying it all.

His life, his lot, his friends, family, his student... and what had become of them.

He denied it all, and lapsed back into blackness.

END CHAPTER NINE. . . .

Author's Notes -

Akira Toriyama, eat your heart out. o.o

(o.o) This chappy gave me some MORE problems; especially since my time schedule has little room for writing anymore. That, and the aforementioned data loss, and my long-running bout with some odd lung condition for the past six months - O.0 Okay, I will stop making excuses. Suffice to say, I'm sorry I'm late again. ; ;

O.o I am going to do my best to finish this ficcie before the end of this year. After that... /shrug. I might write an FFXI one, but; / Time is the problem here. I just don't have lots of it.

Anyhow, I hope everyone liked this chapter. o.ob Please review!

Thanks for reading!


	10. 10 Dichotomy

Author's note:

Kenshin - Four years, and still you're obsessed with egg rolls. (-_-x)

Justice - Work with me here, Himura. _Taco. Egg rolls. _(bo.o)b

Kenshin - It's been done already, it has. (-_-x)

Justice - I'm always behind the loop… (._. )

. . greetings.

I'm twenty-three now, and I've taken to heart some advice I received a very long time ago about how Hiko_ was giving Goku a run for his money in environmental-altering flares of warrior ki._ On that note, scaling back just a hair - sue me, I was seventeen. T_T I will attempt to exercise superior craftsmanship, although my grammar is as horrendous as it ever was.

Fifteen dollars says someone can pick that last sentence apart and find five to six errors. . Eh. Additionally, is it a bad sign if I cringe when I think about reading my own writing from years gone by? Anyone? Anyone?

Oh, well. On with the frakkin' show.

Oh, yes… you can blame the resumption of this story on Anberlin's _Paperthin Hymn_.

XIII

The Sword of Seijuro Hiko

by Justice Stryfe

_________________________________________

Ten: Dichotomy

_I thought you said forever_

_Over and over_

_A sleepless night becomes bitter oblivion_

_- Paperthin Hymn_

Somewhere, in the vast swirl of shadow and light that danced before his eyes, lost amid a world in the throes of every murky and life-stunting act of malice imaginable, there was an infinitesimal tidbit of happiness just barely beyond his reach.

He understood this fact as another man might understand (or for that matter, contemplate) the existence of his nose, or his eyes - things that simply were. They were facts of life, they were there, they performed their function, they were set where they were supposed to be; little else was thought of them.

In this way, Seijuro Hiko understood that happiness was not the fate of a wielder of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu. He'd seen it all through his master's life, and heard about the eleventh master from the twelfth many times over a campfire, the former having been full of stories of the tenth, but there wouldn't be a fourteenth to reminisce over the burdens of the thirteenth. Hiko noted that despite his mastery of Hiten Mitsurugi's combat techniques and his physical prowess exceeding all the previous Hiten masters, he was clearly his forerunner's inferior as a teacher. The thought pained him, but he had no choice but to acknowledge it.

In his mind's eye, despite it all, despite every instinct that told him it was not for him, he saw himself reach out towards a glimmer of light in the distance, his lightly armored hand grasping at a beacon he knew he'd never catch, no matter how hard he fought or how bitterly he resisted the tide of madness that washed over his small nation like a tsunami.

The glimmer vanished, and he closed his eyes in resignation.

In the now-complete darkness, a voice seemed to call to him. He opened his eyes, but now saw nothing but an expanse of black that seemed endless.

Quietly the blackness whispered to him, faintly so that he had to strain to hear. He moved to cup his hand to his ear, and found that he could not see or perceive the movement.

He swung his hand over to touch his forehead, and felt nothing. His eyes widened, but he did not feel the change. It was as if his body did not even exist. As he struggled to find some semblance of sensation in the empty void that engulfed his consciousness, he heard the voice repeat itself, only slightly louder, but enough so that he could understand what it was asking.

_What would you give to change it all…?_

_______________

He opened his eyes in something closer to panic than he had ever felt. _Damn nightmares,_ he thought bitterly.

Beyond the walls of the house he was interred in, he could hear the chatter of merchants and shoppers, and children squealing in pursuit of one another, though the house itself was noisy as well, with what sounded like several men shouting their lungs out at one another. A few birds and perhaps a cat joined in the ruckus, a few carts, maybe a horse or two...

He sat upright, despite his wounded frame, and wondered how it was that his life had come to this, recovering from wounds sustained only because he'd been drunk, recuperating in an enemy's hideout, the very enemy who had destroyed his apprentice's life.

In the corner of the room, his would-be guard stirred, noting his captive's wakefulness. The man began to open his mouth, but was abruptly silenced by Hiko's annihilating glare.

"Where is Katsura." It was more of a statement than a question.

The man's eyes flicked towards the sliding door. Hiko's gaze narrowed imperceptibly, and he nodded towards the door, which his 'captor' promptly fled through. Angling his neck in the opposite direction, Hiko noted that Katsura had continued to leave the Hiten longsword Wintermoon on a small pedestal near his bedding. Idly he reached for it, taking comfort in the heft of the great katana, and the cold, blue gleam of the blade.

Five minutes passed, and Kogoro Katsura, leader of Choshu and perhaps the most fiercely independent man in Japan, found himself standing at the door to the one man in the world that he felt he had to answer to. The cold beads of sweat that snaked their way down his back reassured him that the Hiten master was well aware of his presence, despite the noise in and around the house.

Gathering himself, he opened the sliding door, and was met by the baleful golden gaze of his assassin's guardian. "We have things to discuss," the swordsman stated flatly.

Katsura nodded. Bending down, he picked up a tray carrying a teapot and two cups, and walked to a pillow situated across from Hiko. Seating himself, he proceeded to pour tea for both himself and his erstwhile captive; Hiko did not move at all, but instead bored into the revolutionary's soul with his foreboding gaze.

Katsura began without preamble. "My sister was apparently on her way here to demand an audience with me concerning Kenshin. She…" he paused for a moment, focusing on the warmth in the teacup he now held. "She was well acquainted with him, I gather."

"They played together as children, when we went to her town for supplies."

"Indeed," replied the other, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "She tried not to show it - I think she knew that... I think she knew she was going to die," he grated out, "and she was trying to press me about Kenshin before she passed on. I think she was… angry with me because of him."

Hiko was silent, wishing for all the world that he could simply rend the man seated before him in twain, but holding himself at bay out of debt to the departed.

"She mentioned that he was the greatest swordsman in the world, present company included," Katsura half-heartedly chuckled. "She was entirely disapproving - vehemently - of his position as our assassin, a trait she no doubt shared with you."

"It was through her that I learned of his assuming the role in the first place."

"I see." Katsura took a sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving Hiko's. "Kenshin's unparalleled skill seemed to have made an impression in more than one way."

"You needn't always speak about him in the superlative," Hiko said in a voice of iron. "He is an apprentice, and a boy, nothing more."

Katsura sighed. "Apprentice or no, he is the most-" Katsura stopped himself from finishing 'most powerful piece in the war', his sense of self-preservation having shut his mouth before he could fully rationalize how _unwise_ that choice of words would be. "His power is beyond that of many dozens of seasoned, full-grown warriors. I firmly believe him to be beyond the ability of the Shinsengumi captains, perhaps our only combatant who could withstand the elite Wolves."

The irony of the comment failed to elicit even the slightest amusement from Hiko. "Why did you not employ him as a free sword, then? Why the shadow-stalking killer?"

Again, the Choshu leader sighed, and was a few moments in responding. "Truth be told, I have been sorely tempted to remove him from his duties as an assassin almost daily since his first… job." Hiko's scowl deepened. "I know you do not believe me, but I am deeply concerned about the effect the war has had on his mind. I simply believed that it was necessary for the survival of our cause to send him to eliminate adversaries via assassination while we built up our numbers."

"Originally, I did not realize the true extent of his power, and once I had, the Shinsengumi had organized around their strongest officers, eliminating our ability to bring them down in single combat with Kenshin as our champion. That, perhaps, would have been the wisest choice - and one better suited, even if only slightly, for him; in the early days of the Shinsengumi there was less cohesion and more solo work amongst them. Opportunities to eliminate the captains have not come again."

Katsura stopped and took a long drink from his cup. He pondered for a moment, staring into the cup as the liquid, eyes distant. "Months ago I realized that Kenshin was not only a powerful warrior to be sent into battle, but fearsome in his potential to lead. It was not a trait he possessed when he first arrived - something he grew into, I suppose."

The Choshu man winced. "I have asked him to attend meetings of the Ishin leadership with me, as a peer, not a guard," Hiko frowned in contemplation of the unexpected statement. "I'd wanted him to make his voice heard in the direction the war was headed, and in the formation of alliances and, one day, the new government. If anyone should have a say in the new government, it should be Kenshin. Okubo of Satsuma has met him twice and is in agreement - it never takes him long to make an accurate judgment of a man's character. His trust in Kenshin is implicit. My associate, Aritomo Yamagata, also believes him to be an important - personality - in the war, and wishes to ascribe more authority to him, but Kenshin has consistently declined, saying he wishes only to see the era change and expressing a contentment to vanish into history as an unknown swordsman."

Hiko's countenance fell slightly. "That is patently Kenshin."

Despite the lingering fear for his life, Katsura mustered the courage to look Hiko in the eye. "I truly feel that Kenshin is the most potent force in the war - now, and for however long he commits himself to the cause. Four times now, I have asked him to attend meetings with me as an officer of Choshu, and four times he has declined. I have continued to assign him to assassinations, yes, but I am fully aware of the damage done to him by them."

Katsura closed his eyes as if envisioning Kenshin from the past, and so did not see Hiko's thinly veiled reaction to his next words. "If not for the young woman he met recently, whom he has taken to hiding in our facilities, I would have already retired him. Ironically, the day of the Ikedaya incident, I had planned to return to tell Kenshin that he was to be assigned as an army free sword, effective immediately. Since then, though, he has departed Kyoto with his young woman friend, disguised as a young newlywed couple, selling medicine and vegetables." A pained smile came to the revolutionary's lips. "Although, I would venture that it is no pretense for him."

Katsura's eyes were still shut as he took a long drink of his tea, oblivious to the plight inside Hiko's soul. _Damn. Damn… gods damn it all… _Hiko decided then and there to bury Ayane's feelings for Kenshin inside himself and never to reveal them to the boy. _Everything is twisted…_

Katsura's eyes opened, and he looked to Hiko to be on the verge of tears. "Despite everything, I would ask a question of you, Sir Hiko."

Hiko's gut twisted painfully. The man gave the impression that he already knew the answer to his own question. "That being?"

Katsura hesitated for a moment, and the twist became a snarl, and then a writhing convolution as the hesitation dragged on. At length, the man seemed to gather himself, and taking a deep breath, he asked slowly, "What relationship did my sister have with Kenshin?"

And Hiko's world came crashing down, as he weighed the half-honest truth half-retribution his answer would be. Briefly, he considered sparing the man the further torment of the knowledge he was asking for, but cut the thought off in recognition of at least the need to be honest about the girl's feelings.

"She was," Hiko said slowly, measuring his words in an effort to keep himself from cracking, "…infatuated with Kenshin, for several years. It was purely an affection between children, in my estimation, but…" He trailed off in an uncertain, meandering manner that his master would have belted him for a hundred times over. "…when Kenshin left for the war, she was the only one he spoke to. He had several friends in the village, but everything else seemed unimportant to him."

Katsura gripped his knees in an effort to quell the shaking in his hands. "I see."

A long silence fell between the two men, Hiko lost in dark thought, and Katsura wholly surrendered to his self-recrimination. At length, he bowed deeply to Hiko, and said in a voice thick with grief, head still pressed to the floor, "Forgive me. Kenshin is several days travel from here in the town of Otsu. As I said, he poses as a medicine man living in a hut a mile west of the village - you may find him there if you seek him." Standing abruptly, he turned and strode from the room swiftly.

Hiko watched him go and wondered if the man would still have a soul when all was settled and the new world he wished for came to be.

_______________

Two days after departing Kyoto for Otsu, Seijuro Hiko had one thought and one thought alone.

_I have got to be losing my mind._

He had not slept but an hour in his estimation, and not by his will. Even now, he attempted to settle against a large fallen oak and sleep, but the fear of his unconscious mind kept him from drifting away.

In the few moments he had rested over a day gone by, the Void had returned to him in his dream, enveloping all the world in its ink-colored mass. The voice in the darkness called him into itself, and asked him the same question it had asked him three nights before.

The event was so unnerving to Hiko that even now, he felt actual fear at the thought of sleep. Never before had Hiko feared anything - other than the death of his apprentice, and the moments of terror following his inheritance of the Hiten Mitsurugi ultimate technique, when his master had gasped for breath to console his grief-stricken student, rent from shoulder to waist completely in two.

Now, though, he feared his own slumber. He was already losing control in the bright of day - to lose himself in his sleep as well was to look madness in the eye and make peace with it. With no refuge, how could he maintain what was left of his sanity?

Over and over he alternated between pushing the thoughts from his mind, and attempting to make sense of them, despite the little he had to reason from. Unsettled, he tossed to one side and the other as the hours dragged on and the sun finally set in the distance. _I don't know what I should do once I reach Otsu. I will not enter the town until I am decided on a course of action; but what will it be? Do I go through with it all and kill him? Do I talk to him? I certainly can't speak of Ayane to him, not now, probably not ever. _The crickets grew louder in the glade as true night set in. _Obvious blow to his tenuous grip on reality aside, it most certainly will not make him walk away from the path he's chosen -_ _if anything, it would fuel his rage against the Shogunate all the more - not helpful. _Hiko wondered idly if Saitou might have slain the offenders himself had he arrived first.

Folding his arms behind his head, he shifted himself to lay flat on the ground, eyes tracking the bright quarter moon as it sailed lazily across the sky. It was a cloudless night, far away from the light of the Kyoto outlying settlements, and the stars were magical to him, set amidst a field of wondrous sparkles of what seemed to be clouds beyond the sky. _A good night for sake, if I had any._

Staring up at the stars, he gradually succumbed to the peaceful scenery and fell asleep, the fear of the blackness fading into the back of his mind, settling into nooks and crannies of shadow,

And then lunging abruptly, swallowing him whole.

_______________

He had the _distinct _impression that he'd been awake when everything that was close to the color black had suddenly exploded and moved to devour him. He didn't even have time to reach for his sword, the onrush was so swift.

One moment, he'd been looking at the stars, the next minute he'd felt himself dozing, and then suddenly it was as if the entire world had turned upside down and no one had thought to mention to him to _hang onto something._

**\\ just as soon as you see something to hang onto in this abyss, let me know about it. \\ **

Hiko (whirled?) around in his mind, sight (useless) tracking about himself to find the source of the voice.

**\\ a thoroughly human reaction, but ultimately pointless. \\ **

In his mind, Hiko blinked. "I'm talking to myself - again. That's wonderful. Master always did say I'd be the first Hiten master to lose my mind."

**\\ Ah, how swiftly we are distracted from pressing matters. Let's chat about something more important. \\ **

In what amounted to a blink without blinking, Hiko found himself on his mountaintop, a dozing Kenshin in the background, leaning against a tree, his eyes on the sky, as if daydreaming. It was all the same as he remembered from his dream weeks before, aside from Kenshin looking content, a seamless transition from the black to the mountain, as if someone had simply lit the sun like a candle and he'd found his body again. Hiko quirked an eyebrow. "This again?"

\\ Not quite the same. \\

Hiko turned to his left, and found himself staring into what he only assumed was a phantom of his sleeping mind's portrayal of his mood of late. His skin was the color of dark ash, his hair somehow even more black, and his clothes were varying shades of gray and black as well. _The cloak doesn't look too bad in black,_ he mused.

His shadow self stared at him in disgust. **\\ ****Don't you have more crucial matters to think on than fashion? \\**

Hiko snorted. "It's a dream. I very much doubt I'll get any better results talking to myself in my sleep than in waking. Though, I can't say the red eyes are flattering," he smirked, motioning idly at his doppelganger. "Besides, nothing's crucial about talking to myself. I do that all damned day."

**\\ ****Boring, wouldn't you say? \\**

"The upside is that I know I'm talking to someone intelligent. That's a hard commodity to find in these parts."

The blood-red orbs looked back at him through a grimace. **\\ again, let's discuss something more important than your ego, like your apprentice here. \\**

Hiko snorted even louder. "I don't have an ego, I merely acknowledge facts. False humility is as repellant as bluff and bravado. However, I do indeed wonder what the issue is with my student looking _content_ for once." Hiko moseyed a few yards closer, and called out to the boy, who seemed not to notice.

Hiko frowned and pitched a conveniently-placed pebble at him. The stone seemed to pass through and fall flat onto the grass beyond him. Kenshin didn't give any indication of having noticed.

**\\ He is unaware of either of us being present. One of the drawbacks of you having never taught him the secret swords. Perhaps that's your colossal self-regard at work again. \\ **

Hiko turned and frowned at his dark reflection. "It isn't any fault of mine that I'm better than most of the world. And what in the nine hells do the Ascendant Swords have to do with this?"

His shadow-self walked past him. **\\ What are you going to do once you arrive in that little hillside town and find your apprentice putting the moves on a woman instead of a sword through the shogunate? \\**

"I had no idea I'm so damned good at non sequiters."

**\\ You're trying my patience terribly. \\**

"I haven't decided," Hiko said, playing along with his insanity. "At first, I planned to kill him, then I wondered about teaming up with him and wandering again as I used to. After talking with Saitou, I was thinking about killing him again, and now, after conversing with that human garbage Kogoro, I'm wondering what to do again."

His shadow self stopped in front of Kenshin and turned to face Hiko**. ****\\ What makes you think you have the gall to kill a boy who might as well be your own son? \\**

"I'll cut you off right there. It's in the boy's best interest to not spend the remainder of his life as a blood-soaked backstabber. It is my duty as his master to spare him the torment of such an existence."

The other him nodded. **\\ You're right. \\**

Without a word, the other him slid into a crouching stance and leapt at Kenshin. Hiko jumped forward involuntarily, but not quickly enough to reach (himself?) as the black Hiko, unseen by Kenshin, shifted his left leg in front of himself and let his glittering black blade tear through Kenshin in the Hiten succession technique. Invisible or no, the wound seemed completely real as Kenshin's eyes widened and he gagged at the pain of being cloven in two.

Hiko darted forward and grabbed what was left of his apprentice's upper torso, the anguish of his master's final day seizing him wholly. The boy seemed to notice his presence now, and made an effort to speak, but only blood came from his mouth.

His dark doppelganger glanced sidelong at him. **\\ Don't fret so much. He's not dead; he just woke up unpleasantly where he is now. No doubt his new lady friend will comfort him back to sleep. \\**

As if on cue, Kenshin took one shuddering, gasping breath, and died in his arms. Hiko stared numbly at him, the weight of his original intentions sinking in. Then a thought occured to him. "Are you telling me that... this... is representative of the actual Kenshin? He was here?!"

The other him nodded, massive arms folded over his chest. **\\ As much as there is a 'here' in this realm. ****Now, let's recap. Boy trains in Hiten, check. Boy violates school teachings, check. Boy emerges into war and tilts the scales completely off balance, check. Boy single-handedly becomes threat to future of japan, check. All in all, I'd say killing him is the right idea from the Hiten Mitsurugi viewpoint. \\**

Hiko growled low in his throat. "I do hope you're going somewhere with this. As you seem to be me, I'm sure you're aware of how much I'm thinking about carving you up at the moment." _If this was in any way real... no, it had to be. How would I have ever known Kogoro's name without hearing it from Kenshin himself? I never knew Ayane even had a family name. So that was actually Kenshin speaking to me? None of this is logical in the least._

The other him raised one fist to his chin, thumb and forefinger out in a gesture of intense concentration. **\\ Think past that for a moment. ****Balance is overrated, you know this. Wickedness has a tendency to overrun, and more often than not, goodness sits and waits and plays the kindness card until the bloodshed gets too uncomfortable, whatever and wherever that line is drawn is, of course, quite variable. But back to Kenshin - If he can change the world, why not let him? Who's to say it'll be for the worse? Look at your trip so far, and tell me that a world forged by Battousai will be more unbearable than this. \\**

His black self made a sound of contempt. **\\ As it stands, he's strong enough to take on anyone in the shogunate one-on-one. If he could corner the Wolves one by one, he'd likely be able to take them out over a period of time, further easing the cause of the Ishin, who already would have been lost if not for his arrival. Lacking the succession technique, though, as well as the Ascendant Sword, he's not ready to deal with foes beyond the Shinsengumi. Already one exists who rivals him in skill, and he is only partially trained as well. Ironically, they're on the same side at the moment. \\**

The Hiten master stopped for a moment, and wondered if he truly was losing his mind.

Turning to the dark thing wearing his face, he asked flatly, "What the hell are you? You're not me."

Hiko felt a deep chill trickle down his spine as the darkness shaped like a man positively _grinned_ at him.

**\\ ****I **_**am**_** you, simply better informed on current events. \\**

The trickle became a river as the doppelganger craned his neck to one side to regard Hiko in an uncannily catlike manner. **\\ Very soon, you will have the opportunity to change the course of japan's future, in such a way that kenshin can not. If you have the will, you may change everything with your own hands. All you need do is accept what is offered to you when the time comes. \\ **

Hiko glared at the darkness. "I have never taken well to being uninformed. Speak clearly."

**\\ Details are unimportant. It will come together soon. \\**

"What are you planning to do with Kenshin?"

**\\ With kenshin? \\ **the doppleganger eyed him as a man might regard a particularly strange insect. **\\ I am not planning to do anything with Kenshin. I'm not planning to do much of anything at all. The real question is what do **_**you**_** plan to do with kenshin? \\**

"I recall that we covered this already."

**\\ I'm not referring to our present conversation. I refer to the incident weeks ago with the slave caravan. Isn't that what you wanted? What you were screaming about in your head? \\**

Hiko scowled more deeply, and laid his student's phantom-body on the ground. Dream or vision or whatever it was, the blood was as warm and repugnant as it had ever been in waking hours. "Elaborate, and make it quick." His temper was rapidly fraying with the meandering conversation.

**\\You can change it all yourself, the course of the war, the chaos of the future, and spare him the agony of a world too cruel for him to bear. The Hitokiri Battousai will no longer be needed, and all that will be left for Kenshin will be to enjoy his life in peace with his wife. \\**

The scathing words he'd intended to voice died on his lips as his imitator's words sank in. The anger in his glare did not abate, however, and he found himself trying to see past those arrogant crimson eyes to whomever lay past them.

The imitation smiled in what seemed like genuine understanding. **\\ It's a lot to take in all at once. You'll see soon enough. In the meantime, I recommend getting some rest. A chance at obtaining ultimate power requires a man in top condition. \\**

Despite his unease, he felt himself snort in derision. "Ultimate power is already mine. It is not something you can give to me."

**\\ Is it? Interesting. But keep in mind what I've said, Hiten-Mitsurugi Thirteen. \\**

His shadow-self vanished, as did the broken body of Kenshin. Hiko saw little sense in looking around for the nonsensical being in the middle of a dream, so he simply stood for a while in thought. He had no idea of the passage of time, and his mind was quite empty save for one overriding thought.

_I have got to be losing my mind. _

______| End Ch.10 |______

Author's Notes:

So, after a couple of years, I finally figured out the one villain who could give Seijuro Hiko a run for his money. I daresay it's a whopper, as the villain is very similar to the one man who ever defeated Kenshin Himura. That's my only clue. o.o I hope you'll stick with me to see more. Please note that the story is going to take a decidedly supernatural turn in the coming chapters. But hey, this is RK - not as if that ground hasn't already been trodden a bit. Might as well go all out!

I also figure, being slightly (slightly) more mature as a writer now, I ought to polish up the old chapters and tighten the writing a bit. Not sure how yet - one thing that hasn't changed is my tendency to be long-winded.

I also decided to focus on ken-ki to a greater extent in combat, instead of just throwing Japan into a random tsunami or two when Hiko gets mad. In the end, it makes the story easier to write, because, even as far-fetched and crazy as I can be, I can't really think of a plausible excuse to Hiko summoning a Cat.5 hurricane every time he loses his temper, which he's going to do - a lot.

I had intended to finish the story in a total of fourteen chapters, not counting the epilogue, one chapter for each Hiten Mitsurugi master (Kenshin quit and all, but he's still Seijuro Hiko XIV.) I don't know if it'll be adequate, though. Too bad, too, I had some kewl names picked out for the chapters.

Now, ticking points off on one hand -

Yes, I'm continuing to make Hiko a dark and brooding son of a gun with no end in sight to the potential angst.

Yes, I invoked the one-shot from the Warring States in naming Hiko's sword.

Yes, I'm going to make Hiko even more powerful than the manga implies he is. I've also got this crazy idea about Hiko jumping around in traditional samurai armor Sou-Ryuu-Sening every jackass in Japan from Hokkaido to Kagoshima.

Yes, you know your inner geek squealed at the thought. Don't lie to me. ~o.o~ I perceive these things. No, I haven't have any superhuman senses - just the heightened awareness of a man who's seen one too many badass fanfics. Call it intuitive vision.

_Eat yer heart out, Saitou._

_ADDITIONAL NOTE: __**STOP SCREWING UP MY KIRBIES, PLEASE o.o**_


	11. 11 Trepidation

Kenshin: Sessha refuses to read this chapter, that he does. *wanders out*

Justice: ._. I kinda figured that might happen.

Tomoe: I like this chapter.

Hiko: You've got a complex, woman. Which it is, even I don't know.

Justice: *nibbles on an egg roll* (o.o)

Going to be doing some rewriting of the first nine chapters while I'm fiddling with chapter twelve. I figure there's a good amount of cleaning up to do, not the least of it being formatting fixes.

Ch.10 was terrible with that. (A. engravers MT font didn't work. o.o (B. I didn't realize it wasn't bolded, so there was nothing differentiating Hiko's doppelganger's speech from Hiko himself aside from a few // //, which aren't exactly eye-catching. Ah, well, mostly fixed.

Other issue with Engravers is that it is default capitalized, so I need to go back and fix a few lower-cased kenshins in the chapter. (o.-) By the by, bring a tissue, I think this one's pretty good.

**XIII**

The Sword of Seijuro Hiko

by Justice Stryfe

_________________________________________

Eleven: Trepidation

Hiko awoke to the sun peeking over the horizon to greet the land with its warm rays. His eyes simply opened, instantly awake and fully rested.

The birds were singing, and a squirrel sat atop his chest, nibbling what looked like a radish. Hiko, having not been aware that squirrels ate radishes at all, merely stared at the rodent with a mixture of curiousity, a dash of amusement, and just a pinch of dumbfoundedness.

_All of nature seems to regard me as just another tree or rock to sit upon, as if I have no rights whatsoever as a human being. _He smiled warmly at the small creature enjoying its meal. _Besides, don't squirrels hibernate this time of year?_

As if on cue, the squirrel perked up, looked into the friendly face of the world-weary swordmaster, and tossed the last bit of radish into his left eye.

_______________

Normally the road to Otsu was a pleasant walk, filled with friendly country citizens and kindly land barons who tried to remain unattached in the war, despite its closeness. The birds would chirp, the cats would chase one another, and children would squeal and chase the cats. Even though it was the cold season, there had been a warm streak for several days, and the citizens were enjoying the peacefulness of their idyllic life.

Today was rather different. Though by no means unfriendly or threatening-looking, the citizens were nonetheless wary of an extraordinarily tall and powerful-looking caped man who, grumbling without cessation, would stop whenever he saw a squirrel (there were many in Otsu), reach into a small brown pouch he carried with him, and pitch a bit of sliced radish at the apparently offensive creature. When he hit, he would throw his head back, arms spread wide in victory, and laugh hysterically. When he missed, he would swear violently and continue the assault until he achieved his objective, at which point the laughter would become truly terrifying. The squirrels chittered in what some might dub amusement, had they been human, and the man's solid black eyes would be filled with a fiery light as he sought more victims.

The citizens decided he'd lost his mind in the war.

Eventually, his thirst for revenge gave way to the realization that he would never conquer an enemy so numerous, and he lapsed back into silence, only occasionally muttering darkly to himself. A talent of his, one of many, had been the capacity to enjoy himself in the smallest things in life, even when all seemed dark. That power of detachment had served him well for many years.

Now, as he approached the town of Otsu, he could not help but feel a sense of foreboding. He was perhaps five miles distant, according to a friendly old man he'd passed just moments before his last squirrel, and he had yet to decide what to do about Kenshin.

_Alright. Time to think this through thoroughly. _His stomach growled, and he grimaced at the realization that he'd thrown the remainder of his fresh vegetables at his adversary all morning, and would have to make do with bread and a rather crusty cheese. _Perhaps I could purchase some vegetables or even some meat from a farm around here. It's worth a try, at any rate. _Turning around, he started back towards a backpath he'd seen about a half mile ago, hoping someone in this relatively well-to-do looking area had some food to spare. He ignored the victorious chittering in the trees that taunted him about how the forest had defeated Hiten Mitsurugi.

The day couldn't get any worse though. Surely being assaulted by squirrels was the low point of any day.

______________

"Just kill me already..."

An old man of perhaps sixty-five whirled his head around to stare at Hiko. "What was that?" he fairly squawked, his wicked, beady little black eyes zeroed in on Hiko's throbbing skull.

The Hiten master sighed, and kept a firm grip on the arm of the wriggling youth he'd caught in the farmer's storage barn. "I didn't say anything, old man, you're hearing things."

The path he'd seen had indeed led to a farm, which was good. The farmer who owned it was affable for the most part, but slightly senile, which was bad. He had agreed to sell the hungry swordmaster some dried beef and vegetables, which was again good, and would have remained thus, had Hiko not smelled chicken and fish tempura upon the farmer opening his door wide to exit the house - that was most certainly bad. He'd chalked it up to one more run of bad luck.

They'd traveled to the shed together, Hiko attempting (and failing) to convince the old man that tempura was, in fact, a foreign dish, and not of Japanese origin. "Portugal!" the man muttered, shaking his stick in Hiko's face. "No need for those foreigners around here, boy. Our food is ours!"

That had begun a long tirade about traditional Japanese values which Hiko had chalked up to his own idiocy for engaging an old farmer in so frivilous a topic. Hiko endured all for the sake of a more substantial meal, but had been dozing when the old man was bowled over by the barn door swinging open and a child of perhaps ten had dashed out of it, arms full of various foodstuffs. He'd gone perhaps a yard when he was caught by Hiko.

"No respect these days!" he shrieked, waving his stick up and down. "Thieves! Killers! That's all Japanese youth are these days!"

Hiko's face was a study in longsuffering. "Old man, I'm hungry, and I have a good distance to go yet. Can we skip to the part where I buy food?"

"Pay! What about this whelp stealing my store? That's what my family and I are going to eat this winter!"

"Orphans have to eat, too, old man," Hiko replied wearily. "I'm not condoning what he did, but I'm not really eager to debate it, either. Can we talk about _my_ food?" _Food, good. Talk, bad. Simple concept, really._

"Truth be told, young man, that there is about as much as I planned to give to you. I can't spare any more than that." he sighed. "If only it hadn't been stolen... just can't trust anyone to respect another man's property these days. Stealing food of all things. I wish dearly that it could be recovered."

Hiko stared at him in unvarnished astonishment. "The food is sitting _right there_, old man."

"Aye," the man said, inclining his head slowly, his face a study in austerity. "Stolen from under my very nose. I'd sell it to you, if I still owned it."

"But you do, it's sitting right there." He resisted the urge to point, like a child, at the haphazard mounds of wrapped meats and vegetables.

Very slowly, the old man motioned for Hiko to bend down slightly. Every instinct in Hiko instructed him to run screaming from the place, but he unwillingly complied with the old man's request. The farmer placed a hand on his shoulder, no doubt meant to be comforting, but oceans of distance beyond foreign to a man as aloof as Seijuro Hiko. When the man spoke, it was in the reassuring voice of a grandfather speaking to a distraught child.

"It's alright, son," He affected a pained smile. "Those goods are stolen, son. I cannot give you what I don't own anymore."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the wriggling youth stopped his escape attempts in order to stare, dumbstruck, at the nodding old man, shaking his head every so often in apparent dejection at the state of mankind. Hiko, bent over double in order to accomodate the short old man, wild-eyed youth in one outstretched grasp, cape flowing gently in the breeze, responded to the absolute incoherency of it all in the only fashion he knew.

His eye twitched.

"Well," he began, feeling like the biggest fool in Japan, "since it's sitting _right there_," he said, ever so slowly, attempting to break through the glassy-eyed veneer over the farmer's mind, "and I've _recovered the stolen food, _which is, at this point, _not stolen anymore," Gods, my master would never stop laughing, _he groaned to himself internally,"I'm going to go ahead and take the food that _was _stolenbut_ isn't stolen any longer, _and I am going to _pay for the stolen-but-returned_ food. Here," Hiko said, handing the old man a solid golden coin, then motioning gently at the supplies scattered upon the ground. "This will pay for all the food that is absolutely _not _stolen, but, in fact, belonged to _you, _and now belongs to _me_." _And leaves me a step closer to needing to find an actual job, instead of living off the money from the eleventh master's old life. One more thing to worry about._

The elder's eyes widened in awe at the thumb-sized chunk of gold, and bowed, thanking Hiko profusely as he meandered back to his farm, the impetuous youth forgotten in favor of the coin. Smiling slightly at the insanity of it all, Hiko turned to face the scrawny black-haired youth he'd caught by the arm. "Hungry, eh?"

The youth glared at him defiantly. "I don't need your help!"

"I've heard that several times in my life," Hiko quipped. "Each time, it's been a bald-faced lie born of entirely unjustified self-confidence." The youth wrenched his arm to one side again, failing to budge Hiko in the slighest.

Hiko pulled him up to eye level by the arm, startling the boy. "Children are always trouble," he grunted. The youth glared. "For someone who didn't need my help, you sure kept quiet while I was paying for the things you stole. Reconcile that with your quick-mouthed ego, while I eat the food. I'll consider it payment for saving you a thief's beating, and enduring that inanity of a few moments ago."

With that, Hiko abruptly dropped the boy on the ground, and turned to pick up the wrapped foodstuffs laying scattered about. Only a few seconds passed before the boy attempted to make off with one of the wrapped items, only to be tripped up by Hiko's booted right foot abruptly appearing before the dashing boy. A faceful of dust and a broken, splattered squash were the only things the boy received for his trouble.

"Don't be so wasteful with good food, kid." Hiko grunted, immeasurably pleased with himself. "There was nothing wrong with that squash."

The boy growled loudly, but, to his credit, didn't attempt to attack Hiko. A few moments passed while the boy fidgeted and fumed, and Hiko enjoyed the devil out of it. "Well, if you make yourself useful picking all this up, you can eat some of it. And save me the yap about not needing help, boy," he added, cutting off the impending retort, "you're so damn hungry, even your face is looking skeletal."

The black-haired youth growled again, but got to his feet and began to pick up the scattered vegetables and dried meats. "The cheese is mine. You can have the beef, you look like you need it."

The boy grabbed a few more vegetables and the cut jerky, and ran into the forest beyond the barn. Hiko repressed a sigh and, gathering the remaining vegetables and meats into his travel sack, and set back for the road.

_______________

He took another day and a half to reach the town, mostly because he stopped a mile from the farmhouse in order to gather his thoughts. The day was well-spent, and, after a great deal of reflection and consideration, he felt that he had at last figured out what to do about Kenshin. The only thing left to figure out was how to get the boy to go along with it.

His first thought upon entering Otsu was that there was no village nicer to settle down in that the quaint little farming town he now strolled down. The people were friendly and cheerful, the children were playful and bubbly, and he'd been offered a sweet rice ball by what had to have been the most adorable little girl in all Japan.

Naturally, though, he didn't let the depth of his feelings show. He was Seijuro Hiko, after all; nobody else in Japan was going to be that for him. He settled for a warm smile and a silver coin in return for the treat.

Munching thoughtfully, he realized that this was what he'd intended for his student. A small village, a few good neighbors, some fields to till, and (most importantly) a good woman to keep the idiot in line. Unbidden, Ayane's face came to his mind. Softly, he tried to push it away.

_I am more regretful than I can express, but I must look to Kenshin's welfare. Forgive me._

Throwing himself into his renewed role as master and surrogate father, he stopped by a variety of shops inquiring about Kenshin and his not-so-pseudo wife. He had a fair idea where they lived from directions given him by Katsura and his cronies, but he wanted to feel the situation out first.

Though it was only morning, he felt that he needed time to rest and think a bit more before _scaring the hell out of his apprentice_ with an unexpected visit, so he wandered through the town until he located a modest inn. The rooms were cheap, and the owner found favor in Hiko's eyes, as he kept a large stock of sake for guests at a good price, considering the high quality. _Gods, sake,_ opening a bottle and inhaling deeply. _The aroma... a fine sake, indeed. How long has it been since I had a drink?_

Purchasing the large bottle for himself, he wandered down the hallway and opened the sliding door to his room. He'd rest for the evening, and speak to Kenshin in the morning. He'd lay the plan out on the table without a hint of his usual arrogance. The boy would see reason now, surely.

As he stooped to remove his boots and relax in thought for a few hours, he noticed something in the corner of the room. It was small, particularly small, but it was making a strange noise that he didn't quite recognize. Eyes narrowing in curiousity, he opened the shutter over the window to his right and glanced into the now-illuminated corner at the source of the noise.

It was a cat.

A_**kitten**_**.**

It had a fish in its mouth.

_**It followed him.**_

Hiko left the inn without a word.

_______________

Growling at being intimidated out of his respite, Hiko wandered the village again until the irritation faded, and he decided to go for an off-the-cuff approach and speak to Kenshin that very instant.

Off-the-cuff took a turn for the worse as he meandered his way into the forest beyond the village, searching for the right words. He'd been wandering for several hours, and the sun and sky were now hidden by clouds, blown in by a chill breeze. _I really ought just go now. Waiting around to form words for a speech isn't something for me to do._ He didn't feel the need to explain himself often - in fact, ever before, that he could remember - but he felt that Kenshin would respond better if Hiko presented himself as a peer, and not as his master, to be consulted, not obeyed. The boy as he was now was far less likely to answer to him as a student to a teacher than he was years ago.

It was certainly nothing his own master had ever done - nor was it something he was eager to do - but he supposed, in honesty, the boy was now a man, having seen much of life, between both war, and love. _I don't care about my pride anymore, so much as simply getting things done. Whatever it may require of me, I am willing to pay the price. _

Chiding himself on his uncharacteristic behavior, he pulled his cloak closer around himself, chilled by the cold winter wind that had loosed a flurry of snow. He growled low in his throat; he was filled with a sense of foreboding by the snow - his master had died on a snowy night, and Kenshin had left on a newfallen snow in the dead of winter. Since the latter, the sake he'd had in winter had tasted bland.

He felt a tremor in the ground, and heard the sound of snow falling as the trees around here were rattled. His eyes snapped westward. _Gunpowder in the forest? It bears examination. _He turned and ran deeper into the forest.

He'd jogged perhaps two miles before stopping to examine the annoyance in the back of his mind, mounting steadily as he'd found himself deeper in the forest. Halting, he closed his eyes and reached out around himself with his mind. Nothing.

He scowled, reaching deeper within himself. Something in the forest was blocking his sense of direction and ability to sense the presence of others. All he could feel was a vague blur of life - many lives, but which were animals and which might be people, he was unsure. He could not put a direction to any of them; it was as if their life-force was spread out over the whole of the wood. _And the sun being obscured, I can't navigate normally either. Delightful. What on earth is this strange sensation obfuscating my swordsman's sight?_

He trudged onwards for perhaps another mile, vastly annoyed at his inability to pinpoint the beings he sensed around himself. One might well be a squirrel, for all he knew. All of them might be squirrels. He couldn't tell.

Abruptly, he felt another tremor in the ground. He whirled to his right and tore off through the woods again, dodging branches and alarmed deer as he went. He grimaced as the wind brought the smell of blood to him.

Around half a mile from where he'd felt the second tremor, he came across the body of some kind of warrior plastered in many places around the trees. At the center of the blood splatters and pieces of shredded flesh lay a large crater. As he walked to the crater, he noted a slight trail of blood and footsteps leaving the area, away from where he'd come from. He followed the path, his stomach tightening in apprehension as he affected a much faster pace.

Two miles past the tattered corpse he'd come across, he found another field of blood, albeit larger than the other. A second, larger crater was also present, and there was a wakizashi stuck in the trunk of a nearby tree, the blood on it dripping slowly as it froze to the blade. He snarled at his inability to tell one sensation in his mind from the other as he wandered all about, seeking a trail to follow. At last, he found it, the blood trail being considerably wider and the footsteps more shuffling, fading from sight swiftly as the flurry became a blizzard of vicious intensity.

His heart beat painfully against his ribs as he dashed faster. He could feel nothing, and the forest was eerily silent, save for the sound of his boots and breathing. _It has to be Kenshin. Who else would be out here, fighting in the middle of nowhere? This region isn't involved in the fighting. _He weaved in between trees and bushes, his physical senses sharp and looking for anything that might be a threat. He put on an extra burst of speed and cleared a small ravine, and heard the sounds of battle faintly in the distance.

His speed picked up again, sustaining a run speed faster than any man could hope to sprint for more than a few seconds. Desperation pulled hard on him, and he ran even faster, so that he left a trail of ethereal blue light in his wake, such as Wintermoon left when swung in battle.

Through the trees, he flinched as he heard Kenshin's voice raise, loud, but broken and gargled, as though spitting up blood. He pressed himself all the harder, removing Wintermoon and its sheath from his belt, prepared to slay the very second he reached the battle.

He broke through the trees at great speed, eyes tracking wildly, settling on a charging Kenshin, sword held high above his head in one blood-soaked hand, running straight into the charge of a brawler, knife in hand, whose arms alone held more muscle than Kenshin's entire frame. Beside them both, a young woman dashing into the middle of the fray, her arms outstretched as though to shield Kenshin from the coming blow. Hiko came down upon the ground, sliding across the snow in the opposite direction as Kenshin's battle-cry rose to an earsplitting roar of defiance. He could find no footing to propel himself to the fight.

He knew, for one, horrible fraction of a second, as the wind howled one last time and sent a chill down his spine that bordered on otherworldly, and as time seemed to compress a thousand ideas, arguments, and realizations into the very literal blink of an eye; in all that, he knew that everything had been for naught - his techniques, his Hiten Mitsurugi, his philosophy, and his secret swords amounted to complete and total irrelevance in the face of this most desperate of moments.

_"Your life would be easier as a normal man, with a normal man's concerns."_

_He whirled about, the winter winds gone, Kenshin nowhere in sight. He was in the center of a farming village, hundreds of miles and a decade and a half away. He gasped, seeing in his mind the scene of a twelve-year-old boy, staring up into the aged, line-creased face of the master swordsman who'd just saved his family, his blade and cloak coated in blood. "Are you certain this is what you wish?"_

_Hiko stared, dumbstruck, as the boy turned to look at the gathering of people around him, his two sisters, his younger brother, his weeping mother, and the sorrowful resignation in his father's eyes, the gathering of all the townspeople he'd known since his birth, some wounded, some unhurt, but mourning the dead, all eyes fixed on him. The graying swordmaster's shoulders fell slightly, and he closed his eyes in contemplation._

_"It is a life devoid of joy."_

**Conviction. **_**"A man who eats his brother is not a man any longer -"**_

**Regret. **_**"I'm sorry, master."**_

**Obsession. "- he is a mad dog, -"**

**Despair.**_** "My dreams are nothing, my sword is purposeless, and I have no idea what to do now..."**_

**Determination. "- and should be treated as such."**

**Frustration. "It's because you don't get it!!"**

**Compassion.**_** "The people are afraid! Whatever reasons you have, they mustn't be abandoned!"**_

**Realization. **_**"It has been as you said it would be, master."**_

**Grief. **_**"I wanted flowers for the graves, but all I could find..."**_

**Failure. **_**"were these -"**_

**Innocence. **_**"Shinta."**_

**Arrogance. **_*** A child's name. No name for a swordsman - from now on, your name will be - ***_

**Guilt. **_**By that token, one could ask YOU why you trained him to be the perfect killer! **_

**Culpability. **_*** What have I done? ***_

_**PENALTY.**_

"_**KENSHIN, STOP -"**_

The sound of a finely crafted, razor-sharp blade cleaving through tender, bloody flesh, the sound agony all its own.

He felt himself stumble as he saw Kenshin's blade carve through not only the brawler, but the raven-haired young woman he'd been living with, as she threw herself between the combatants. He didn't know why, and at the moment, it didn't matter. Slowing to a halt, he watched the brawler fall away, and the woman collapse against Kenshin, who stood perfectly still in shock for all of five seconds, until the woman shuddered and coughed up a spray of blood. The entire sequence happened so swiftly, but for him, it was as if every second was an hour.

The scream that erupted from his blood-drenched student rent Hiko's tattered soul to shreds. As he watched the boy's shaking frame try to hold the woman in one piece, he lost all will to keep going; he didn't even realize his legs had given out on him completely, and he fell to the ground hard, grinding himself into the dust from the sheer speed he'd fallen from. Struggling angrily, his mind twisting itself in rapidly dwindling denial, he scrambled to his feet, trying to resume running, but again, his knees buckled, leaving him kneeling on the ground, bereft of strength. He stared dumbly at the horror before him, and all the power, speed, and knowledge he posessed were so much less than nothing in the face of what had befallen his student.

Faintly, in the wind, he thought he heard her name being spoken through a veil of sorrow and guilt so thick that even he could not cut it. Straining to hear what was being said, he was suddenly assailed by the pungent stench of blood that he knew all too well, mixed with the floral scent of white plums. The sickly sweet mixture of aromas threatened to make his stomach rebel.

Slowly, the young woman reached up, a tiny dagger in her hand, and ever so slowly, the blade traced a wobbly path through the air to Kenshin's face. Hiko did not move, lost in the moment and unsure what was occuring, unwilling to speak or interfere. From where he stood it seemed as though she merely let the blade hover in front of his face for a moment before moving it away. Convulsing in grief, Kenshin bowed his head and spoke in a broken half-scream, as her arm fell limp to the ground.

The gutteral sound became the cry of a million husbands on a thousand battlefields throughout Japanese history, long, loud, hoarse and broken, wrought of emotions so overwhelming in intensity that no words could differentiate between them and anger seemed guilt, and guilt seemed sorrow, and terror laced through all of them and mingled into something darker than each, to which he could give no name. The sound took away Hiko's very will to live, and doubly so as he realized the boy had been screaming the woman's name.

_I can't be seen now, not like this, not when it's all too late. Gods damn it all, I have to go, he can't have heard me, the way he was screaming. I have to go now._

Another voice in the back of his head loosed the most primal of snarls at him for even thinking of abandoning his student in the face of his darkest hour. Hiko wasn't even sure if it was his own voice, or his enshadowed counterpart, or if it even mattered. He tried to stand, to get away, and the voice did not give voice to so much as _hurl_ his guilt at him. As though struck, his head snapped forward, and again he felt it, like a carpenter's hammer striking him from behind.

_* * COWARD. BETRAYER. YOU FAILED HIM ALREADY, AND YOU"RE GOING TO DO IT AGAIN. * * _The knowledge fell upon him like a rain of spears, and he clutched his head in agony.

_I have to go. He can't see me now, not now, not when it's too late, all too late... I can't bring it all back down on his head again for leaving at all -_

_* * WILL YOU FINISH THAT? DO YOU ACTUALLY INTEND TO BLAME HIM FOR WHAT'S HAPPENED HERE? * *_

_He'll see it in his own mind... I can't stand it. I can't stand to see his face right now, and I can't stand to inflict that guilt upon him. I can't - I won't. I won't survive it._

He forced himself to his feet, almost tripping over Wintermoon, and hurled himself into back the forest, the longsword feeling alien to him in his hand.

_I've never accomplished one good thing with this sword in all my life. Always a second too late to prevent a tragedy, only able to see justice done. What's it even matter? Justice isn't bringing anyone back, and the injustice is so far over the scale that the threat of death doesn't even intimidate the wicked into submission anymore. No matter how many I kill, they just keep rising up and taking more with them._

He half-stumbled, half-ran perhaps five miles through the freezing night, heart aching as his apprentice's screams tore at what was left of his soul. his mind a jumble of incoherency, recoiling at the colossal injustice of his life, and his student's. Idealistic idiot, yes, but just that; idealistic. He started swinging the damned sword to protect the innocent. His soul was draining away for the sake of a better tomorrow for everyone else, and he'd been rewarded for his sacrifices by _accidentally killing his wife _with the sword and sword technique given him by the man who was supposed to be _looking out for him_. Choking back a sob, the first since his master had died fifteen years ago, he sank to the ground amid a small grove surrounded by bare-branched cherry trees.

_I pranced around and waited all day. For once in my life, I hesitated - and everything has been destroyed as a result. I could have prevented it all this very morning. All of it... from the beginning... all my fault - and all the penalty is laid upon Kenshin._

He beat his fist upon the ground in impotent rage, the cold, hard dirt giving way only slightly to his half-hearted blows. He felt a great chasm between his body and spirit, as though the one had been removed from the other and set some miles apart. He couldn't even muster the energy to scream. On his hands and knees, he wept silently for the futility of his life, of the anguish of his student, the knowledge that nothing could be done to help either cause any longer, and the bitter realization that it was his own doing.

_Death._ That was the word he'd been unable to find. Stripped of the emotional distance that was a consequence of living day-to-day in a world gone mad, the true horror of the word settled coldly into his heart and smiled at him, warm, placating, infinitely regretful and more vile and repugnant than words could express. His control gave way, and he vomited in between bouts of racking sobs until his body grew so weary that even the dry heaves ceased to plague him.

Shakily, stripped of his strength and majesty as heir to Hiten, he wobbled away from the place he had fallen and vanished into the trees, aimless, hopeless, and lost to the world and all in it.

In the trees behind him, two sets of eyes exchanged knowing glances, and, veiled in shadow, followed him deeper into the woods.

______| END CHAPTER 11 |______

Author's notes:

Chapter 12: _Fulmination_ is already started, so don't worry, I'm not vanishing again.

Hiko didn't start the blizzard, I'm not falling back into old habits. (o.o)


End file.
